Fighting Fires
by katrinahopes
Summary: He had always been there for her when the alarms sounded, her firefighter. And in return, she had breathed new life into his heart. Though she didn't choose him, she changed him. Even though she is out of his reach, he can't seem to take his heart back from the girl with the heavenly highkick. Is his dream gone forever, or will happiness find Yoon Ji-hoo?
1. Chapter 1

It began with Happily Ever After...

* * *

Saturday morning dawned with relentless cheerfulness, callously disregarding the wishes of the one man in particular who didn't welcome its coming. The early morning sunlight slanting into Ji-hoo's bedroom and falling across his closed eyelids didn't wake him, however. In point of fact, he wasn't asleep, and hadn't been all night. Head and heart had battled each other through the dark hours, and Ji-hoo felt bruised inside and out. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for several minutes before heaving a deep sigh and catapulting himself out of bed. Nothing could stop time. Jan-di's wedding day was here at last.

* * *

Though no one would describe Jan-di as timid, the legion of hairdressers and makeup artists buzzing around her in a noisy, scented cloud made her feel like a cornered kitten. Promptly at 7am, they had burst into the large, lavishly decorated room that Jan-di was occupying in the Gu mansion in the days leading up to the wedding. Before she knew it, she had been bathed and powdered, wrapped in a plush robe, and pushed down into a chair in front of the antique dressing table, where she was currently being plucked, brushed, curled, and painted to within an inch of her life. Her pulse rose, and with an effort she reigned in the desire to jump up and run out of the room, scattering beauticians in her wake. She knew that just outside the door waited Madame Kang, her imperious future mother-in-law, holding court with her family and the rest of the wedding party. Fleeing was not an option. Resigned, Jan-di clenched her jaw and waited for it to be over. She definitely didn't want to make any waves with the dragon lady today.

It hadn't been easy, but after all they had been through, Madame Kang had finally come around to accepting Jun-pyo's inexplicable devotion to the unsuitable commoner he had fallen in love with. Far from defeated, however, she had quickly turned her considerable attentions to a new hobby: transforming Jan-di into an elegant, subdued, polished member of the Korean aristocracy. She couldn't turn Jun-pyo's heart toward a woman of her choosing, so she was determined to create that woman out of the one he had chosen for himself. Not that it was going very well. Jan-di's clumsiness, and her penchant for speaking her mind, thwarted Madame Kang's efforts at every turn. Devoted to her work at the clinic and to her family, she rarely had time for the type of black tie affairs Jun-pyo's mother wanted her to attend. And when she did show up, she had a talent for creating chaos. At the engagement party, for instance, where Jun-pyo's mother had hoped to present her to Seoul's high society crowd as a graceful swan, she had flubbed her grand entrance down the majestic staircase when her sparkly heels caught in the train of her gown. She nearly tumbled head over tail to the bottom, more like a duck diving for dinner than a swan. Fortunately, their faithful friend Ji-hoo had stationed himself at the foot of the stairs (probably anticipating just such a disaster, she thought ruefully), and she had landed neatly in his arms, burning with embarrassment, but otherwise unharmed. Her cheeks hadn't been the only ones crimson with emotion, though. Knowing Ji-hoo's heart as she did, she had hurried to extricate herself from his near embrace before things got even more awkward. Jun-pyo, long cured of his jealousy by Jan-di's acceptance of his ring, had thanked Ji-hoo with a brotherly smile and whisked Jan-di off to the dance floor. The rest of the night wasn't too bad, actually. Despite her literal fall from grace, the party had been more enjoyable than she had expected. People were kinder than the legion of disapproving Kang-bots she had imagined, happy to open their arms to anyone with the Shinhwa stamp of approval, grudging though it may have been.

Dragging her thoughts back to the present, Jan-di noticed that the flurry of activity was tapering off. One by one, stylists were stepping back, tilting their heads to admire their work. At last, they were all finished. Smiles lit their faces as they looked at her, nodding in satisfaction. Slowly, she stood, and the crowd parted so she could see her reflection in the mirror.

She gasped softly. "Is that really me?" she wondered. Jan-di knew she wasn't pretty; she'd always known, and had long ago ceased to worry about it, concerned more with her family's next meal and how to pay the rent than with the latest skin treatments and hairstyles. But the girl in the looking glass gave the lie to her casual self-dismissal. Soft black curls brushed her cheeks. Her eyes, framed in pale gold shadow, shone. Her lips were tinted in a delicate shade of rose, and her whole face seemed to glow from within. She didn't look like she'd ever known hunger, or gotten dirty, or roundhouse kicked a school bully in the face. She looked like a princess. Shyly, Jan-di reached a hand out to touch her reflection. A low, appreciative whistle sounded from behind her, and she looked into the mirror to see a pair of rich chocolate brown eyes that sparkled with appreciation staring back at her. Jun-pyo's frank perusal brought a flush to her cheeks, and the anticipation that had been building up in her all morning swelled as she gazed at him, realizing that, despite all the wedding pandemonium, today would end with her in his arms at last.

"The witch sent me to see if you were ready for your dress," he grinned.

"Gu Jun-pyo!" Jan-di chided, "You said you weren't going to call her that anymore!" Under Jan-di's gentling influence, the relationship between mother and son had reached a détente of sorts, with both sides agreeing to lay down their arms and to try to move forward, past the caustic events of the last few years. Though Jun-pyo balked at the idea of forgiving his mother for her cruel deceptions and schemes, seeing how much their broken relationship was hurting Jan-di had convinced him to try. They would never be close, but the atmosphere of open warfare had subsided, leaving behind a cool courtesy. Despite the anguish that she had personally endured at the hands of Kang Hee-soo, Jan-di hoped their wounds would heal in time. Family was family.

"Sorry," he amended, "old habits." She smiled at him in the mirror and saw his eyes grow warm in response. Clearing his throat, he addressed the assembled servants, "You've done a beautiful job. Would you please excuse us for a moment?" Jan-di hid a smirk behind her hand. The "please", too, was a new addition to the man who stood before her, a natural side effect of the growing peace and contentment within him. Thanks to this spirited girl from the poor side of town, he no longer saw a world divided into "us" and "them". After years of casual disdain, everyone had started to matter to Gu Jun-pyo… but no one more than the remarkable woman standing in front of him at this moment with flowers in her hair and fuzzy slippers on her feet.

They were alone now. He stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close in a hug so he could rest his chin on her shoulder. "You know, you commoners clean up pretty well," he teased, dodging a playful elbow to the ribs in response. "Are you ready to promise that you will love, honor, and obey me, Geum Jan-di?"

Her mouth twitched. "I'm ready to promise that I will love, honor, and thoughtfully consider your point of view before doing whatever I want," she corrected, laughing. His laughter joined hers, and he gathered her closer, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, letting himself bask in the knowledge that the day had finally come. Jan-di was really going to be his forever.

Lightly, he placed a kiss at the nape of her bared neck, and her shiver of pleasure almost undid him. Turning her around, he tipped her face up and gazed at her for a moment before catching her lips in a kiss. What he had meant to be a short peck lengthened and deepened, passion rising up in both of them like a wave, threatening to topple them over. His hands moved over her back, cupping her neck, tracing her spine. She clung to his shoulders like she was drowning. It was Jun-pyo who, with a mighty effort, ended the kiss, gently pushing Jan-di away. Drawing a shaky breath, he stepped back to put some distance between them. "Everyone's waiting," he said. "I'll let my mother know you're ready to get dressed." With that, he straightened his jacket and left the room, a smile curving his lips as he whispered to himself: "Soon."

* * *

The church was, predictably, packed. Even though they had rented out the biggest cathedral in Seoul, between family, friends, and the many Shinhwa Group associates who had been invited, the stone walls could barely contain everyone. As Jun-pyo's best man, Ji-hoo waited next to him in the front of the sanctuary, nervously fingering the wedding ring in his pocket. Standing slightly behind and to the right of him, the other two members of the F-4, Song Woo-bin and So Yi-jung, were the only other groomsmen. Despite his unruly thoughts, Ji-hoo appreciated the significance of the moment. The four of them had been through a lot together, and it was unthinkable that any of them would miss this, the joining of their wild-hearted leader with the unusual woman who had finally tamed him. In truth, she had tamed all of them. The coming of Geum Jan-di to the F-4 was like the rising of the sun on a field of ice. Their sharp edges had been melted away, leaving behind the shape of the men who had always been there underneath all the excess. Jan-di was the unlooked-for gift, bringing conscience, courage, and compassion with her. She had gentled the giant Jun-pyo and lit a fire in the ashes of Ji-hoo's cold, controlled heart. That control was all but gone now, burned away in the realization that his life would never be what it could have been if he had been the one to win Jan-di-ah's love. He had played his cards too late, and she had chosen Jun-pyo. Reckless, passionate Jun-pyo.

Ji-hoo had been too slow to realize what he wanted, too tentative to grab hold of her when he could have. Every day since the engagement was announced had been a struggle not to suffocate under the weight of his regrets. Why hadn't he seen her value when it was he, not Jun-pyo, who was the object of her interest? Why had he left Seoul, following Seohyun to Paris like a fool? While he was gone, Jun-pyo had staked his claim, and Jan-di had been his, body and soul, ever since. Ji-hoo sighed, trying to shake off the negative thoughts. He focused instead on calming his outward appearance, struggling to maintain the air of careless insouciance that was his usual uniform. Not that Jun-pyo would have noticed, either way. He was doing his own fidgeting, shifting his weight impatiently from foot to foot, eagerness for the wedding to begin painted like a sign across his face. Looking with wistful affection at the transformed Jun-pyo, Ji-hoo made a vow to himself: whatever he felt, he would make sure that his two best friends in this world experienced only joy on this, the first day of their new life together. It was the one gift he had left to give to the woman he loved.

Suddenly, the first notes of the processional song sounded. The crowd quieted, and both men looked on as, one by one, Jan-di's bridesmaids advanced down the flower-strewn aisle. First came Jae-Kyung, grinning saucily and tossing a wink to Jun-pyo as she took her place at the end of the line. She was followed by Seo-hyun, elegant as always. Ji-hoo smiled at her briefly as their eyes met, his heart utterly free of the madness that had sent him trailing in her wake all those years ago. Having finally experienced love, he recognized his attachment to Seo-hyun for what it was: a boy's first infatuation—heady and intoxicating, but ultimately unfulfilling. The relationship they shared now was the comfortable one of old friends. Jun-pyo's sister, Jun-hee, was next, and she was clearly bursting with pride and excitement. She and Jan-di had instantly taken to each other, and her unwavering support of the young couple had been a source of strength to both of them. Jan-di loved her unni fiercely. Last, blushing furiously under the gaze of all the wedding guests, came Jan-di's most devoted friend, Ga-eul. As she neared the end of the aisle, Ji-hoo saw Ga-eul glance up, catching Yi-jung's eye. She visibly relaxed at what she saw there and took the last few steps with confidence, her face alight. "It won't be much longer before we have another F4 wedding to attend," thought Ji-hoo with an inward smile. Finally, the last notes of the processional faded away, and all eyes turned expectantly toward the back of the church. The sweet, familiar notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D filled the air, and the great oak doors swung open for the bride.

Ji-hoo's heart thumped painfully as he took in the spectacle of Jan-di in her wedding dress, clinging to the arm of her father, who was already in tears. Soft satin folds clung to her body, her tightly fitted bodice giving way to a simple skirt and train, subtly edged with rows of crystals and pearls. Her delicate shoulders and neck were bare except for her cherished moon and star pendant, a gift from Jun-pyo. From behind her diaphanous veil, she wore a radiant smile that nearly took Ji-hoo's breath away. As she floated down the aisle, he glanced up at Jun-pyo and saw on his face a look of such unfiltered love and joy that, despite the crowd all around them, he felt as if he had been caught intruding on a private moment. He quickly looked away, trying to swallow down his own churning emotions.

The ceremony was simple and sweet, like Jan-di. Bride and groom clasped hands and spoke their promises to each other. Jun-pyo's hand trembled as he placed a gold band on Jan-di's finger, and the happiness that blazed from her face as she watched his nervous movements was almost too bright to look at directly. Only Ji-hoo was close enough to see the moisture glistening in Jun-pyo's eyes as he bent his head to kiss his new wife. Just like that, it was done.

* * *

Later, at the reception, he stood in the shadows at the edge of the hall and applauded along with the rest of the guests as Jun-pyo and Jan-di shared their first dance together as husband and wife. Looking at them, it was clear that the rest of the room had disappeared from their sight. They gazed into each other's eyes as if they were the last two people in the world. Torn between his friends' happiness and his own misery, Ji-hoo slumped against the wall and tried not to think. Yi-jung found him there twenty minutes later, halfway through his third glass of champagne. "Too much of that stuff gives you a headache, remember," he reminded him with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow. Ji-hoo flashed him a look of irritation. "Look, if you want to drink," Yi-jung continued, "come out with Woo-bin and me afterwards for some soju. It'll be the F4 after party!" Without taking his eyes off of Jan-di, Ji-hoo replied, "Maybe I will." Yi-jung, dropping his mask of forced gaiety for a moment, laid a sympathetic hand on Ji-hoo's shoulder and gave a supportive squeeze before making his way back across the room to Ga-eul. In response to the unspoken question in her eyes, he raised his shoulders in a shrug. He had rarely seen Ji-hoo drink, but something told him he'd be carrying his friend home on his back tonight. He looked like a man in search of a bottle to drown in.

* * *

Jan-di was exhausted. It had been a beautiful day from start to finish, a wedding lavish enough to turn the head of any unsophisticated rooftop princess, but the long hours of dancing, greeting guests, and smiling had taken their toll on her. She was punch drunk, high on happiness. Also, her feet hurt. She looked fondly over at Jun-pyo, who was checking in at the hotel's front desk and making plans with the concierge for tomorrow's breakfast in their suite. Despite her weariness, Jan-di's pulse quickened at the thought of her first night alone with her new husband. "Husband," she whispered, and giggled quietly to herself. How surreal it seemed to finally be married to Jun-pyo, after all the hurdles they had overcome and all the heartaches they had endured! At the thought of heartache, though, a little pang pierced her cloud of contentment. She let her mind drift back to the one dark spot on her otherwise perfect day.

As the reception dinner had been winding down, Ji-hoo had risen up from his seat at the head table and rapped on his champagne glass, drawing the attention of the room so that he could give the traditional best man's toast. He looked resplendent in – what else? – a white tuxedo, his coppery hair swept slightly forward and his smile large and genuine as he turned to face Jun-pyo and Jan-di.

The warmth of friendship radiated from his face as he began, "I've known Jun-pyo since we were small children. When we were six years old, Jun-pyo broke my toy robot. Luckily for him, I'm very forgiving." Jun-pyo bowed in mock apology while the guests laughed. "Since that time," Ji-hoo continued, "we've been through a lot together—classes and vacations, times of grief and times of celebration. We've fought and made up many times since the robot incident. We've spent hours talking about everything under the sun. The four of us," he gestured to include Woo-bin and Yi-jung, "have been a family to each other, the only family I had for a very long time." He paused for a moment, focusing his gaze on the table, attempting to pull back on his riotous emotions. After a moment, he looked up.

"So when I tell you that Geum Jan-di is too good for Jun-pyo, you'll know how much that means."

Jan-di started. Jun-pyo gave her hand a gentle squeeze, nodding down at her. "He's right," he whispered in her ear.

She raised her eyes to see Ji-hoo looking at her fondly, and gave an embarrassed smile. He continued, "In truth, you're too good for all of us, Jan-di, but we're glad you made room for us in your life anyway. The girl who tamed the F-4… I can't imagine a better match for my oldest friend." Jan-di's eyes misted and she dipped her head in silent thanks. Ji-hoo's face softened for a moment, and then his mouth quirked as he added, "I hope you saved a few of your famous roundhouse kicks for married life, because I'm sure you'll need them! To the bride and groom, everyone!" He raised his glass, and in the tide of good-natured laughter and shouts of bonhomie that followed, Jan-di was the only one to notice the slight quiver in his smile, as if it was a mask in danger of falling off.

It was then that she heard it. Underneath all the merriment and music, a siren went off in her heart. Her firefighter was in trouble, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to help.


	2. Chapter 2

(almost 2 years later)

Grandfather looked up from his book as Ji-hoo swept into the house, unwinding his scarf and dropping it unceremoniously on the white leather bench by the door. He slumped down onto the sofa across from Grandfather's chair and looked up at him with a wry expression.

"Your date went that well, did it?" Grandfather asked, raising one eyebrow in a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. Carefully marking his place, he set his book aside. "What was wrong with this one?"

Ji-hoo sighed. "What wasn't? For starters, she had a SHINee tattoo on her shoulder; she actually spent most of our two hours together telling me all of Lee Tae-min's likes and dislikes and showing me shots from his photo gallery on her phone," he said with a roll of his eyes. Since escaping his place in the spotlight at Shinhwa High School several years ago, Ji-hoo's patience with any form of fangirling was at an all-time low. Of course, he'd never liked it much to begin with. That was how Jan-di had attracted his notice in the first place: she was the first girl to come along who was immune to the thrall in which the dazzling F-4 usually held their female acquaintances. The sight of that tiny, angry girl standing up to the terrifying Jun-pyo, cowing him with her high kick, was a memory that Ji-hoo had called up often, and with barely suppressed glee, in those early days of knowing her. Even now, years later, it made him smile to think of the comically startled look on Jun-pyo's face, as if he couldn't process the fact that this dry cleaner's daughter, a virtual nobody, had laid him low—_him_, the crown prince of Shinhwa Group. Ji-hoo shook his head. Was it possible that they had once thought of Jan-di as a nobody? It was hard to believe. The F-4 didn't know it then, but that day was the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

"It's not only that," continued Ji-hoo. "I asked her what she liked to do in her free time, and she listed her ten favorite department stores. When I got out my credit card to pay for the drinks, she simpered so hard I could practically see dollar signs in her eyes, just like one of those cartoon characters. I'm sorry, Grandfather. I know you were hoping for more." He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Seok-young cast a worried look at his grandson. What troubled him wasn't that Ji-hoo hadn't taken to this latest girl. Honestly, after months of blind dates and meeting after meeting with the matchmaker, Seok-young knew that they were starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel of Seoul's eligible women. But they hadn't all been like that. Some of them had been charming girls – kind, cheerful, artistic, funny. At his grandfather's request, Ji-hoo had dutifully met with each one of them, taking them out to dinner, acting the perfect gentleman, and being generally accommodating. More than one of them had returned a glowing report to the matchmaker, certain that they had found Prince Charming at last. But Ji-hoo had never called any of them for a second date. Not one. In his heart, Seok-young knew that they were all guilty, through no fault of their own, of the same unforgiveable flaw: none of them was Geum Jan-di.

Behind his closed eyes, Ji-hoo was thinking along the same lines. In the months since the wedding, the pain of loss he had felt so keenly that day had largely subsided. He had been afraid that Jan-di's marriage would mean the end of the easy friendship they had shared, a prospect that frightened Ji-hoo when he remembered how lonely he had been before they met. He had the F4, that was true, but the deepest wells of his inner life had always been closed off, even to them. The wounded boy reeling from his parents' deaths and his grandfather's abandonment had dealt with the pain in the only way he knew how, by freezing over the part of his heart that made him vulnerable – the part that needed people. And then she had come, shouting and defiant, intruding into his stairwell and into his life. She was more alive than anyone he'd known, and she had pushed her way through the ice in his heart like a hot knife. He had told the truth the day he'd proposed to her as they walked by the sea: he didn't know when it had begun, but he had come to need her. He shouldn't have worried about losing her, though. The day after Jan-di and Jun-pyo had returned from their month-long honeymoon in Santorini, she had bounced unceremoniously into his house with an armful of souvenirs for Grandfather and a flash drive packed with vacation photos to share, sweeping aside any lingering awkwardness with her characteristic enthusiasm. Was it any wonder that no other woman had been able to measure up to her in his eyes?

As if the thought had conjured the reality, at that moment a happy, "Hello! Is anyone home?" rang out from the garden. "Grandfather? Ji-hoo?" It was the girl herself, waddling a bit under the weight of several bags of groceries and a visibly swollen belly, revealing her seven month pregnancy. The change in the two men was instantaneous. Seok-young's face broke into a broad smile, and Ji-hoo jumped up to open the door and run to her side. Over her objections, he took all of her bags and ushered her into the living room. "Sit down, Jan-di-ah," he insisted, indicating the sofa he had recently vacated.

"Nonsense," she said, pushing past him into the large kitchen, "I came to cook for you both! I know Ming-do-sshi has Friday nights off, and with Jun-pyo gone to New York for the week, I've been rattling around our place like the last bean in the pot." Catching Ji-hoo's look of concern, she added, "No need to worry, sunbae. I feel fine! And I'm going to make enough jjajangmyeon for an army. I'm starved!" He chuckled. Geum Jan-di's pregnancy appetite was becoming legend among the F4. According to Jun-pyo, she had put away a whole chicken by herself last week, leaving him nothing but broth and kimchi to eat for dinner. It was a good thing the young couple had insisted on moving to their own spacious apartment after the wedding. It was hard to imagine Mama Kang's reaction to such a display of unladylike voraciousness. Suddenly, Ji-hoo colored as he remembered the rest of that conversation in the F4 lounge. Privately, Jun-pyo had confided to them that Jan-di's appetite for food wasn't the only one that had kicked into overdrive since becoming pregnant. Though he had worded it as a complaint, it was hard to miss the boastfulness in his tone. Ji-hoo shook his head to clear his unwanted thoughts and left Jan-di to her chopping.

* * *

While she worked, Ji-hoo took a long shower, letting the hot water run over his neck and back, washing away all the stresses of the day. He had worked ten hours at the clinic before meeting his blind date for drinks. Since Jun-pyo didn't want Jan-di on her feet too much, Ji-hoo had taken on most of her patients, making for much longer days. Grandfather had offered to come out of retirement to help, but Ji-hoo wouldn't permit it. Grandfather's heart wasn't as strong as it used to be, and it had been a relief to be able to give him the restful retirement that he deserved after serving the community for so many years. No – if he, Ji-hoo, couldn't handle the steady stream of patients by himself, he would just have to contact the hospital and take on an intern to help him. Yes, that was the solution. The matter settled in his mind, he relaxed and enjoyed the rest of his shower.

In his bedroom, he toweled dry and put on clean, comfortable clothes. The delicious aroma of noodles, pork, and soybean sauce curled through the air, making him realize how hungry he was. He silently blessed Jan-di for her thoughtfulness. He was moving toward the door when he heard a sharp cry from the kitchen. "Jan-di!" he shouted, breaking into a sprint.

He reached the room just ahead of Grandfather to find her doubled up on the tile floor, clutching her abdomen in pain. Panicked, he dropped to her side. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"I…don't know…" she moaned through gritted teeth. Then Ji-hoo saw something that made his stomach clench. Blood, a lot of it, spreading in a slow stain across Jan-di's skirt. She moaned again, and her eyelids drooped.

Frightened, he clasped her hands, hard. "Jan-di! Jan-di-ah!" he shouted at her, "Stay awake! Open your eyes!" He turned to his grandfather. "Call the hospital, quick! I'll get her to the car!"

Her eyelashes fluttered as she searched out his face. "Sunbae," she said weakly, "I'm afraid."

"Me too," he thought, gathering her carefully into his arms.

* * *

The physician softly closed the door of Jan-di's hospital room behind him and turned to address Ji-hoo and Seok-young. "Doctor Yoon, I'm sorry to say it is as you feared. We tried everything, but we couldn't save the child."

Ji-hoo grasped his wrist. "And Jan-di?" he asked.

"She had a placental abruption. We still don't know what caused it. She lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stop the hemorrhaging. I believe she's out of danger. Now she just needs rest, and time."

Before he'd even stopped talking, Ji-hoo was pushing his way into Jan-di's room. It was completely dark inside, and the familiar smell of antiseptic filled the air. At first he thought she was asleep, but then he heard a small sob coming from the other side of the curtain that was drawn around her bed. Sweeping it aside, he let his eyes adjust to the lack of light until he could just make out a small, still shape huddled on the bed. He approached slowly, tentatively, as if afraid to spook her. Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, he felt for her in the dark. When his warm hand closed around her small, cold fingers, she suddenly moved, returning his grip convulsively, like a drowning victim clinging to a life preserver. The dam broke, and her sobs intensified. "Oh, sunbae," she wailed, and the sound of her misery and grief nearly tore his heart in half.

"I'm here," he assured her quietly. "I called Jun-pyo, and he got on the first flight home. He should be here by morning."

At this, a new freshet of tears burst forth. "H-how can I f-face him, sunbae? How c-can I t-tell Jun-pyo that I lost our b-baby?" Her breath hitched with every sob, and she swiped ineffectually at her tears as she fought with despair.

"Chingu, he's not going to see it that way," he said soothingly. "He'll be glad you're all right, and sorry that he wasn't here. The two of you are strong—you can face this together."

"He was so happy about this baby, Ji-hoo. We b-both were…" She wept on. Words, he knew from experience, were useless at a time like this.

Careful not to disturb her IV line, Ji-hoo stretched out next to her on the hospital bed and slid his arms around her, offering the silent comfort of his presence. He felt so helpless in the face of his friend's pain. Jan-di turned her head into his shoulder and let the tears come, crying as if she would never stop. Ji-hoo tightened his embrace, and for a long time, Jan-di knew only darkness and tears and the warmth of two arms holding on to her, keeping the raging storm inside her from blowing her away.

Seok-young came in around 4am and found them both asleep, Jan-di's head tucked under Ji-hoo's chin, as if for shelter. It moved him and worried him at the same time, but looking at Jan-di's closed eyes, red and swollen from weeping, his heart twisted, and he felt the same compulsion as his grandson to comfort and protect the precious girl who had just lost so much. She was like his own granddaughter, and he could not have loved her more if she had been. Quietly, he woke Ji-hoo. "You should go home and get some good sleep," he whispered. "I put a sign on the clinic door to let people know it won't open until noon today."

Reluctance painted Ji-hoo's features, but he didn't protest. Disentangling himself from Jan-di, he slid off the bed and straightened his clothes. "You won't leave her, will you?" he asked. "I don't want her to wake up alone."

"No, no," Grandfather said. "I'll stay." Satisfied, Ji-hoo gave the sleeping, tear-stained girl one last look and left the room.

He trudged slowly down the hallway, his thoughts full of Jan-di's sorrow. He thought of the days ahead for the couple and the pain that would be involved in emptying the nursery, packing up the baby clothes, and grieving for the loss of the future they had planned. He hurt for them both. After all, he had some personal experience in disassembling the architecture of a dream that didn't come true.

As he came around the last corner by the hospital's entrance doors, he was almost knocked down by a frantic Jun-pyo. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was even crazier than normal. Clearly, he had raced straight over from the airport. When he saw who he had run into, he grasped Ji-hoo's arms painfully. "Where is she, Jihoo? Is she okay? Is Jan-di all right?"

Ji-hoo looked into dark eyes that were wild with fear and love, and gave his friend a reassuring smile. "She will be," he said, "now that you're here."


	3. Chapter 3

(2 years later)

"You're almost there, Geum Jan-di-ssi!" the nurse said encouragingly. "We can see the crown of the baby's head. Just a few more strong pushes!"

Jan-di didn't answer. She was concentrating on making her rapid breathing match the pattern she had learned in childbirth classes. Pant-pant-blow. Pant-pant-blow. Before she had taken more than a few breaths, however, another contraction gripped her. She fought for control over her fear as the pain intensified. She had never felt anything like it, except perhaps when she had been injured during her kidnap experience all those years ago. Jan-di had thrown herself over Jun-pyo's crumpled form and taken a blow from a heavy wooden chair that was intended for him. The pain had exploded through her small body like a bomb before she had mercifully passed out. The pain of contractions, on the other hand, stretched out in time, varying in intensity, requiring more endurance than courage. When she had finally been able to start pushing, it was almost a relief. Though it felt different, in one sense this pain was similar: it was a price she was glad to pay for someone she loved.

"Push, Jan-di-ah!" urged Jun-pyo from his place beside her, where he held her right hand. She didn't need his urging. Her body seemed to know what to do instinctively, and she couldn't have stopped it if she tried. She squeezed down on his fingers tightly as she pushed, every muscle in her body straining, sweat popping out in beads on her forehead. She sucked in another quick breath before bearing down again, the pain growing, sharpening into a burning sensation that every moment got more intense, until she felt as if she was on fire. She couldn't help it; she screamed. Jun-pyo's reaction was instant. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded of the nurse, gripping the woman's arm. "Help her! NOW!" The panicky look in his eyes would have been comical if it weren't for the very real terror behind it.

Jan-di knew he was thinking of her first pregnancy and the child they had lost. In truth, he had very nearly lost her that day, too. Only the quick action of Yoon Ji-hoo and the top notch medical intervention she had received at this very hospital had saved her life. It haunted him to think of what would have happened if she had been home alone at the time, losing blood and slipping silently into unconsciousness and death. After Yoon Seok-young had quietly filled him in on the details of that night, he had shown up at Ji-hoo's house in tears, startling his quiet friend by grabbing him up in a fierce hug. "Wherever you go in this world, Ji-hoo, whatever you need, I promise you I will be there. You saved her; you saved my heart. From this day on, Yoon Ji-hoo and Gu Jun-pyo are brothers. We are family."

Jan-di's scream subsided as the contraction eased a bit. She knew another one would be right on its heels. "Jun-pyo!" she shouted, trying to get his attention. "Gu Jun-pyo!"

He released the nurse and turned to look into her eyes. Though she was still panting, she held his gaze firmly. "I'm all right, Jun-pyo. Everything is all right. Why do I have to tell you that? I need you now, so don't lose it, you dummy!" Gun-pyo's troubled face cracked into a small smile at this sign of life from his wife. Looking around at the faces of the obstetrician and the nurses, he could see that she was right. They seemed perfectly at ease, as if all this noise and blood was something they had experienced a thousand times. It reassured him. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned his attention once more to the amazing woman laboring with all her might to bring his child into the world.

* * *

Outside in the waiting room, friends and family waited for news. Jan-di's mother had rushed over as soon as Jan-di had called to let them know she was on the way to the hospital. Her father had taken her brother to an entrance interview at Whimoon High School, an appointment she urged him to keep, but her mom flatly ignored her when Jan-di said that she didn't need to come right away. She had shown up with a cooler packed full of kimbap, jjol-myeon, and rolled egg that Jan-di had waved away with a certain amount of amusement. Fortunately, the mountains of food found a home with the members of the F4, who started to arrive shortly after that, alerted by Ga-eul.

Ga-eul was five months pregnant herself, and Yi-jung ushered her through the hospital hallways as if she was made of glass. Not that she minded. Her pregnancy had been a difficult one. The nausea of the first trimester had extended into the second, and she felt exhausted almost all of the time. Unlike Jan-di, she could barely eat, and her heightened sense of smell and sensitive gag reflex made preparing food for Yi-jung all but impossible. Thankfully, his enlightened expectations of marriage didn't include much in the way of domestic servitude, so, although Ga-eul did enjoy doing things for him, they also employed a full-time cook and maid. In his eyes, even if she never cooked a morsel, Ga-eul was all the things he most wanted in a wife: someone to laugh with, to share his passion for art, to challenge him on his nonsense, and to give and receive the kind of unconditional love he had never witnessed growing up. Ga-eul had taught him that kind of love, and it was a never-ending source of wonder to him. Now, with her, he was about to embark on the adventure of parenthood, something he hadn't thought he would ever experience. The day they had found out she was pregnant, he had been both thrilled and scared, silently vowing to be the kind of father he had always wished he had—faithful and strong, dedicated to his wife and child through whatever hardships might come. Above all, he wanted to be present. Present for all of it. As they approached the obstetrics wing, he squeezed Ga-eul's hand warmly, silently thanking her for all the doors she had opened in him.

When Jan-di's mother saw them, she rushed to hug Ga-eul, plying her with the kind of personal pregnancy-related questions ajhummas lived for. Was she still throwing up? Was the baby kicking? Was she drinking enough water and eating all the pickled ginger Jan-di's mom had sent? Finally, she pulled Ga-eul down into a chair and pushed a plate of food into her hands, urging her to eat, eat! Though her appetite wasn't very good, she did take a few bites, if only as an excuse to stop talking.

Fortunately, Woo-bin took the spotlight off of her, turning heads at the nursing station as he sauntered in with his characteristic sunglasses, leather coat, and fedora. He looked every inch the gangster, except for the friendly smile that belied his tough exterior. He grinned when he saw Jan-di's mom handing out food. "Na Gong-joo-ssi!" he schmoozed, "Tell me you have enough left for me. I'm starving for some home-cooked food. I've been eating nothing but restaurant meals for three weeks." She needed no further urging; before he finished, she was already filling a plate, mumbling about the sad state of youth today that couldn't even stay home long enough to eat a decent meal, a pleased smile creeping onto her face.

The only one missing was Ji-hoo, but he arrived an hour later, carrying a large gift bag with a ridiculously oversized cluster of multi-colored balloons tied to its handle. "What is THAT?" Woo-bin asked.

"It's a present for the baby," Ji-hoo answered with a look that asked, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Oooooh!" squealed Ga-eul, "What is it, Ji-hoo sunbae? Baby clothes? Or maybe a big teddy bear, right?" She shifted over to a closer seat to get a look. Ji-hoo reached into the bag and gently pulled out a small but beautifully crafted violin and a matching bow.

"Ji-hoo," snorted Woo-bin, "haven't you ever _seen_ a baby? You know—pink, squishy, drool-covered things about the size of a loaf of bread?"

"Very funny," Ji-hoo answered dryly. "I just think that it's important to start a child's music education early, if they show an aptitude. This violin is sized for a child of about three. It was mine."

Ga-eul smiled and reached out a tender hand to touch the tiny bow. "Well, I think it's a sweet gift," she said with finality. Ji-hoo tipped a grateful smile in her direction.

"More kimbap, anyone?" Jan-di's mother asked, setting the bowl out on the low table. For the next few minutes, everyone was chewing. Then they heard the unmistakable thunder of Jun-pyo's voice, shouting.

* * *

"One more push now!" the nurse urged her. Jan-di barely registered her presence. She was tired now, so tired. Even with the pain washing over her, she just wanted to stop, to rest, to close her eyes for one minute.

"I can't," she insisted.

"You can! You're almost there!" the doctor said, his eyes betraying a little concern.

Jun-pyo caught the look that passed between doctor and nurse. "What is it?" he demanded.

The doctor answered, "She's getting tired, weakening. We've got to get the baby out now, before it goes into distress. I might have to order an emergency C-section."

Jun-pyo stared at him. "Cut her? Is that the only way?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Unless she delivers this baby in the next five minutes, we need to get to an O.R."

Jun-pyo's eyes steeled with resolve. Grasping Jan-di's hand in both of his, he leaned down until his face was inches from her closed eyes. And then he shouted.

"GEUM JAN-DI!" Her eyes snapped open as if someone had run an electric current through her. He continued, all the menace and rigidity of a drill sergeant in his voice. "What are you doing now? You think you're done here? I thought you were TOUGH!" he railed. "You talk a big game, but you're punking out right now, aren't you? AREN'T YOU? Is this all you've got, Geum Jan-di?"

The weariness in her eyes was replaced by a flicker of irritation, which grew to a flare of anger. "What do you think you're saying right now, Jun-pyo?" she shouted back at him. "Is this how you talk to me? You jerk! You can't say these things to me!"

He leaned closer, squeezed her hand in his vise-like grip, and bellowed, "THEN PUUUSH!" With a furious look, she took a deep breath and focused all her energy on one last, enormous effort. A small web of red lines spread out under her left eye as a capillary burst from the pressure. At last, when she didn't think she could hold on anymore, the doctor gave a shout of triumph as the baby's head emerged, quickly followed by the shoulders and the rest of the body.

"It's a girl!" the nurse announced excitedly. The doctor cleared the baby's airway, and she gave a soft cry, a sound that filled Jan-di with relief. He clamped and cut her cord, then handed her to the nurse, who, with practiced movements, wrapped her in a blanket and laid her in her exhausted mother's arms.

Nothing prepared Jan-di for the rush of pure feeling that assailed her as she looked down into the dark, blinking eyes of her daughter. For a moment, she worried that Jun-pyo might be disappointed that the baby wasn't a son, but one look at him dissolved her concern completely. He was thunderstruck. Standing like a statue, Jun-pyo gazed at his wife and daughter, a look of joy suffusing his face and softening his countenance until the tenderness there was almost too much to behold. Jan-di's eyes filled with tears. Her so recent pain and anger was already forgotten, swept away in the tide of happiness that engulfed her. Reaching up to him with her free hand, she caught his sleeve and pulled him closer. "Would you like to hold our daughter?" she asked. For once, his words failed him. Jan-di gently placed the baby in his outstretched arms and smiled as his tears dripped onto the small blanket.

* * *

Some minutes later, the nurse came into the waiting room to summon them all to Jan-di's side. One by one, they filed quietly into the room behind her. The sight of Gu Jun-pyo cradling a baby invoked a kind of sacred silence as they all stared in wonder. It was Jan-di who finally broke it. "It's a girl," she announced proudly. "Her name is Hee-jin."

* * *

_(Thank you to everyone who is reading. I'm enjoying your comments and having fun telling a story that's been percolating in my mind since I first met the F4!)_


	4. Chapter 4

...

...

Cold wind bit through Ji-hoo's heavy corduroy jacket. Yellow highway lights sped past in a blur as he urged his motorcycle to go faster, faster. Away from the hospital. Away from Seoul. Away from the dark room and the empty bed he knew waited for him at home. He didn't know where he was going, just that the restless ache inside of him wouldn't let him stand still, and so he kept moving. He rode east, toward Kanghwa, weaving in and out of traffic with dangerous carelessness. His hands grew numb inside the thin riding gloves, and a fog sprang up to cloak the road in mystery, but still he didn't slow. Instead, he let his body take over the shifting maneuvers required by the long curves and rises in the road while his mind drifted, pulled back inexorably to the things he didn't want to think about.

…

In the years since Jun-pyo and Jan-di had married, Ji-hoo believed he had resigned himself to the constant low-level throb of loneliness. Most of the time, it was easy to ignore. After all, he had Grandfather, and the F-4, and his work at the clinic to keep him busy. He even had Jan-di, after a fashion. They saw each other nearly every day, sharing in the running of the clinic and enjoying the same close and easy friendship they always had. Often, they would take lunch together, laughing at shared jokes and consulting each other on difficult cases. Her pregnancy had slowed her down a little, but even when she had stopped working to placate a nervous Jun-pyo, she still popped by the clinic almost daily to ask after her patients and bring food for Ji-Hoo and Park Eun-jung, the third doctor they had added to the practice. Yes, she went home to Jun-pyo's arms every night, but Ji-hoo knew he had a permanent place in her life, just as she would always have a place in his.

Ji-hoo had almost convinced himself that it was enough for him. Until tonight.

When he had stepped into Jan-di's hospital room, everything had changed. Jun-pyo was hovering over the bed where Jan-di sat propped up against pillows, her exhausted face glowing with satisfaction. The baby, Hee-jin, was swaddled in a soft green blanket and nestled in her father's arms, her dark eyes already open and gazing solemnly up at him. Ji-hoo could not look away from Jun-pyo's face. It was awash in pure wonder as he gazed down at his child for a long, timeless moment. Finally, lifting his head, he reached over to clasp Jan-di's hand in his own, fierce pride burning in his eyes as they met hers. Ji-hoo had never seen anything like it. In that instant, he had realized that, no matter how close a friend he was to both of them, he was shut out in a new way from this family that they were creating together. He would never be the one standing next to her, the one sharing her nights, the one welcoming new life into the world at her side. He was living a ghost of a life, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. All at once, the suppressed ache of longing for the woman he still loved had burst through its restraints and risen up in him like a flood, threatening to choke him.

Murmuring his congratulations, he had pressed his gift into Jun-pyo's hands, turned, and fled.

…

Back at the hospital, Ga-eul and Jan-di were enjoying some rare girl time. Jan-di had sent Jun-pyo home to shower and rest, and had given her mom the job of calling all the relatives with the news of Hee-jin's successful arrival, a task that would keep her pleasantly occupied for hours. Jun-pyo's parents weren't due to arrive for two more days. Though no longer in charge at Shinhwa, they both maintained an active role in the company. They were currently meeting with the board of a U.S. restaurant conglomerate about collaborating with Shinhwa to open a chain of Korean fusion restaurants along the California coast. Their absence didn't bother Jan-di. Though she adored her father-in-law, she was still often uncomfortable in the formidable presence of the Dragon Lady. She made a silent vow not to allow Kang Hee-soo to meddle with the next generation the way she had with Hee-Jin's parents. If Madame Kang needed grandmothering lessons, Jan-di was sure her own mother would be only too happy to give them!

Ga-eul looked on wistfully as Jan-di lifted Hee-jin to her breast, where the baby latched on like she'd been doing it for months. Jan-di was still a little self-conscious about nursing in front of anyone, but Ga-eul was in awe of the process as only another soon-to-be mother could be. She rubbed her pregnant belly tenderly. "I can't wait to hold this baby," she sighed. "You're so lucky, Jan-di. I still have four months to go, and Yi-jung and I are nowhere near ready." She laughed, "Honestly, I sent him to the store the other day to buy a big box of newborn diapers, and he came back with a cartload of craft supplies for the baby's room! And _without_ the diapers!" She smiled at the memory. Yi-jung had taken her in his arms and spun her around the nursery, talking excitedly about the ocean mural he was going to paint across the walls. This giddy, enthusiastic Yi-jung was different in some ways from the cynical rogue she had first met, but she sensed that she was seeing his true self revealed more fully each day. As the jaded façade he had adopted flaked away little by little, it was replaced by an earnestness and strength that she loved even more.

Hee-jin nursed hungrily for several minutes before falling asleep mid-meal, a drop of milk escaping from her tiny rosebud mouth and dribbling down her cheek. Jan-di gently raised the sleeping infant to her shoulder and patted her back. It had been a while since Jan-di had cared for a newborn, but it came back to her quickly. She had been eleven when Kang-san was born, and had taken seriously her charge to help her mother watch over him. Na Gong-joo had only been able to take a few days off from the dry cleaners after giving birth. Jan-di thought about how lucky she was to be able to stay home for several months, enjoying these precious early days with her daughter. Eun-jung-ssi and Ji-hoo were more than capable of handling things at the clinic, and even when she returned, she planned to work only part-time. Jun-pyo had tried to talk her into quitting altogether, but he didn't try very hard. He knew how much it mattered to her to be able to offer good medical care to people in the very poorest neighborhoods of Seoul. She considered it a calling. Besides, her passion was part of what had drawn him to her in the first place, striking him blind to the charms of all other girls.

"How are _you_ feeling, Ga-eul?" asked Jan-di. She carefully laid the sleeping Hee-jin down in the hospital bassinet beside her bed and turned to her friend.

"Happy," Ga-eul said with a grin, "but still not keeping much food down. Doesn't the nausea ever stop? I can tell Yi-jung is worried. All I have to do is mention that something sounds tasty, and he is out the door and tracking it down for me in an instant." They both chuckled. "The doctor seems to think everything is progressing as expected. Yi-jung just needs to relax. Although…," she said slyly, "I did appreciate that midnight fudge ripple ice cream run he made on Saturday." They laughed again.

Jan-di was tired, but there was something she wanted to discuss with her friend now that everyone else was gone. "Ga-eul," she started, and Ga-eul looked over at her, curious at her tone. "Did you notice anything wrong with Ji-hoo sunbae tonight? He looked strange, I thought, and he left in such a rush."

As a matter of fact, Ga-eul _had_ noticed Ji-hoo's behavior, and she probably had a better idea than Jan-di of its cause, privy as she was to Yi-jung's private thoughts and worries. But she didn't say anything. There was nothing anyone could do to disperse the tension inherent in the delicate balancing act Jun-pyo and Ji-hoo had adopted; the less said, the better. Instead, she shrugged and changed the subject, hoping silently to herself that time would resolve it all without any further injury to the tender hearts involved.

Before she could think of what to say, a knock sounded at the door. "It's me," called a muffled voice from the hallway, "Yi-jung."

Checking first to make sure Jan-di was settled, Ga-eul eased her body awkwardly out of the soft chair next to the bed and went to open the door. Yi-jung stopped to press an affectionate kiss to his wife's forehead before sweeping into the room like a man on a mission, his hands held mysteriously behind his back. "Geum Jan-di," he said, " I have it on very good authority that chocolate is a big hit with hormonal women." Grinning, he brought his hands out from behind him with a flourish, a handful of candy bars clutched in each one. He fanned them out before her like a magician performing a card trick.

Jan-di laughed. "How generous you are, Yi-jung sunbae."

"Not really," he admitted. "This is actually a bribe. I've come to persuade you to let me take my lovely wife home. You see, I need her help with an important project I'm working on."

"Well, it is a lot of chocolate..." she mused with mock thoughtfulness. "I suppose we can cut a deal."

Ga-eul rolled her eyes at them affectionately. "Come on, you smooth talker," she said, slipping her arm through Yi-jung's, "let's go."

"I'll call you later," Jan-di promised as Ga-eul waved goodbye and slipped out of the room.

Together, the couple made their way out of the hospital and walked slowly down the block toward Yi-jung's car. "So, Yi-jung-ah, what is this important project you need my help with?" Ga-eul asked playfully.

"Well," he said, "Master Galiano says that my sculpting is improving, but I need to practice. I thought I might make my next project a nude... of my beautifully rounded wife."

Ga-eul gasped, nearly tripping over her feet. Color flooded her cheeks and she smacked Yi-jung on the arm. "Keep your voice down," she hissed. "People will hear you!"

Yi-jung wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders and declared theatrically, "The artist cannot be silenced in the praise of his muse!"

She gave an amused snort and smoothed a hand over her gently rounded belly. "Some muse! Besides, jagiya- you remember what happened that time you tried to paint a portrait of me wearing only a cotton drape for your Renoir tribute. You never even finished it!" She poked him softly in the shoulder. "So distractable..." she teased.

"I know," he purred, with a look that had unmade many a hapless girl in his bachelor days. Coming to a standstill, he pulled her close and leaned in until she could feel the soft exhale of his breath on her lips. "That's my favorite part."

They walked faster.

…

Ji-hoo could smell the salt on the air as he drew closer to the coast. His bike roared under him like a chained animal. He had left the highway some time back and found himself now on an unfamiliar country road. There were farms scattered here and there, as well as large sections of forest land. He was taking the curves too fast, but he didn't care about that. He just wanted to get out of his own head, and the extra concentration required to navigate the winding road at this speed was crowding out his troubled thoughts.

Suddenly, he came speeding around a sharp turn to find a stalled milk truck blocking the road. There was almost no time to react. He jerked the handlebars of his motorcycle sharply to the left and missed colliding with the rusty corner of the truck bed by mere inches. With a mighty thump, his tires left the road. Miraculously, he flew right through a narrow space between two thick tree trunks before the encroaching branches of a low lying bush snagged his wheel and the bike lurched sharply to the side. Thrown clear of the growling machine, Ji-hoo felt a brief sensation of weightlessness before gravity finally caught up with him. Tumbling wildly across the forest floor, he heard a sharp crack as pain exploded through his left leg. At last, his wild ride ended; he landed in a thicket, the back of his head coming down hard on the knob of a protruding tree root. He moaned once, and then the darkness took him.

...

...

_(Thank you so much to each of you who has reviewed and commented! It's exciting to share our love of the characters from Boys Over Flowers and our wish for their stories to continue. You all have given me a lot to think about as I plan the next chapters!)_


	5. Chapter 5

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...…

Jan-di's baby diapering skills, she had to admit, were a little rusty from disuse. It was early morning, and Jun-pyo was asleep in the chair next to the hospital bed, his neck crooked at an uncomfortable angle. Hee-jin kicked her tiny feet and mewled in protest at the cool morning air on her bare skin, urging her mother to hurry, hurry. Jan-di's first night of motherhood had been punctuated by newborn feedings and nurses checking her vital signs, so she was feeling a bit frazzled and sleep-deprived already. Jun-pyo had graciously held Hee-jin for much of the night, at least when she wasn't eating, but he had drawn the line at changing diapers. "The heir of Shinhwa does not handle baby poop!" he had declared. Too tired to fight about it, Jan-di had settled for rolling her eyes, silently resolving to take up that battle another day.

Yawning, she rolled up the tiny soiled diaper and chucked it into the bio-waste disposal, then washed her hands at the room's small sink before settling back into bed with her freshly fed, changed, and bundled up baby girl. Hee-jin was already asleep again. In the silence, she sighed and made a soft sucking sound with her lips. Jan-di smiled. Tenderly, she touched Hee-jin's cheek, and then stroked her curled palm, marveling at her tiny, perfect fingernails. Was it really possible that she, Jan-di, was a mother? She didn't feel especially wise or strong. And yet, gazing down at the soft, dark hair and sweet baby face of her sleeping daughter, a fierce and frightening wave of protectiveness swept over her, unlike anything she'd ever felt. She knew that she would do anything to ensure the happiness and safety of the tiny life she held in her arms. "I love you so much, baby girl," she whispered. With affection, she glanced over at Jun-pyo's slumbering form. "We both do," she amended, and relaxed into the bed, the rhythmic breathing of her husband and child lulling her gently back to sleep.

It seemed like she had been sleeping only a few moments when the shrill ring of her mobile phone pierced the quiet of early morning. Jun-pyo jerked awake in his chair, groaning and rubbing his sore neck. "Who could be calling this early?" he complained. "Why didn't you turn your phone off last night?"

In seconds, Hee-jin's outraged wail joined the cacophony of noise. Jun-pyo sprang up and leaned over the bed to lift the squalling babe out of Jan-di's arms. His irritated face transformed at the sight of his daughter, softening into a smitten smile that warmed Jan-di's heart. Seeing the tiny girl cuddled in Jun-pyo's strong arms made her insides go all melty. Then he opened his mouth, and in a high-pitched voice started singing, "Gom se mari, ga han chib eh it ssuh…" Jan-di clapped a hand over her sudden bark of laughter. Jun-pyo was unfazed as he continued, "Mama Bear, Papa Bear, Baby Bear…" Amazingly, Hee-jin quieted, looking up at her father with darkly serious eyes.

Jan-di scrambled to answer the still ringing phone. "Hello?"

"Jan-di-ah!" It was Grandfather. He sounded out of breath. "I'm sorry to call so early, but I'm a little worried. Is Ji-hoo with you?"

Jan-di wrinkled her brow. "No, he's not. In fact, we haven't seen him since last night. He… didn't come home?" He hadn't, Grandfather told her. She thought back to the way he had rushed out after seeing the baby. Something was troubling him, she knew. "Maybe he crashed at a friend's place. Woo-bin? Yi-jung?"

"I already checked. They haven't seen him since last night, either." Grandfather sounded truly worried. Even though Ji-hoo was a capable adult, it wasn't like him to spontaneously stay out all night without calling. He was usually scrupulously considerate. "Can you contact me if he shows up there?"

"I will," she assured him, and hung up. Jun-pyo, swinging a quiet Hee-jin in his arms, was looking at her with concern.

"Jun-pyo," she said, worry making her voice tight, "Ji-hoo is missing. I can't… the baby… Will you go out and look for him? You know all the places he hangs out."

Without protest, Jun-pyo passed their daughter to Jan-di and reached for his coat. "Of course I will," he said, and went swiftly to the door.

* * *

Several hours passed without news. Jan-di waited and worried. At first, she told herself that Ji-hoo had probably just forgotten to call Grandfather to say that he was staying somewhere else for the night. _But where?_ she wondered with a strange pang. Back and forth she paced across the tiny space like a captive tiger, stopping every few minutes to check on Hee-jin.

As morning crept on toward afternoon, she found it more and more difficult to convince herself that this was a simple case of forgetfulness. She tried to remember if he had said anything before leaving the hospital last night. She didn't think so. Although she had noted his abrupt departure, she had barely glanced at him in the minutes before that. She'd been exhausted and completely caught up in her newly expanded little family. _The truth is_, she thought dully, _I haven't paid much attention to Ji-hoo at all lately._ Understandably, she'd been preoccupied with the pregnancy, but that was no excuse for neglecting a friend. When was the last time she had asked him anything about himself? Guilt washed over her as she realized how much she had focused on herself over the last few months. He knew everything about her life, but here she was, without a clue what was going on with him, or where he might have spent last night.

She got a text from Jun-pyo at two o'clock. _Haven't found him yet. Any ideas where to look?_ Jan-di's imagination, a force that had gotten harder and harder to hold in check as minutes ticked by, finally snapped its leash. An image of Ji-hoo, attacked and bleeding in a forgotten alley somewhere, flashed through her mind. She grabbed her phone and dialed Woo-bin.

"Yo," he answered, as always.

"Woo-bin, have you heard from Ji-hoo yet?"

"He's still M.I.A.?" Woo-bin asked, surprised. "I didn't think he was actually missing. I just thought maybe he changed his mind and… uhh… well… I thought he was busy and forgot to call."

She noted the quick deflection. "Busy? What do you mean? What are you not saying, Woo-bin?"

"It's no big deal. When he and I were at a club the other night, one of the girls we met was really into Ji-hoo. She hung out with us all night, then gave him her number and suggested meeting up sometime. I know he doesn't usually like the forward type, but this girl, she was…" He paused, as if searching for a neutral word.

"Hot?" finished Jan-di with an eyeroll.

He sniggered. "Yeah. Yeah, she was. I just thought maybe he decided to take her up on her invitation after all. He needs… something, Jan-di. He's been in funk lately, in case you haven't noticed."

_I guess I really haven't_, she thought ruefully to herself. "Woo-bin, I'm anxious. Even if he was… with a girl," (why did that thought still bother her?) "he would never let his grandfather worry about him like this. Can you… will you use your resources to try to find him?"

"I'm on it," Woo-bin assured her, and he hung up.

* * *

Ji-hoo woke to pain, a heavy, dull throb that pressed down on his temples like a vise. He was lying down, his aching body stretched out on a firm, cool surface. A soft pillow was under his head and some sort of lightweight blanket covered him from the chin down. Groggy, he opened his eyes a crack. Panic seized him when he saw his unfamiliar surroundings. He shot upright, and his head exploded with pain, almost blinding him. Clutching his temples, he fell back limply. The world was spinning, so he closed his eyes and focused instead on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Long, deep breaths. Slowly the sharp spike of adrenaline subsided from his system.

After a few minutes, he gingerly opened his eyes again and looked around.

He was clearly in a doctor's examination room. He recognized the shining instruments, the stacks of magazines, and the neat rows of jars containing cotton balls and tongue depressors. On the wall, a bright yellow clock in the shape of a sun told him it was nearing 4:30. Afternoon, he observed, noting the liquid gold sunlight leaking in from between the blinds on the room's only window. Belatedly, he noticed the tube of an IV running out from under a bandage on the back of his hand. Someone had brought him here, though he didn't remember it. He thought back. He'd been riding his motorcycle. Something must have happened—an accident? He vaguely wondered how badly he was hurt. It couldn't be too serious if he had been left here alone. Wherever this was.

Just then, the door to the small room swung open, admitting a short, slim girl with shining black hair bound neatly into a chignon on the back of her neck. A few tendrils had escaped, sticking to the light perspiration at her temples. She appeared to be younger than him by several years, but the confidence in her bearing gave the impression that she knew what she was doing. She was carrying a tray covered with a clean, white cloth. She moved efficiently, setting the tray down on a high counter top next to the exam table. Her eyes seemed far away, and it took her a moment to notice that Ji-hoo was looking at her. She startled. "Oh! I didn't know you were awake! I'm sorry." She bowed slightly. "My name is Kwon Min-ah. My father and I have been treating you."

Ji-hoo sat up, suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was wearing only a cotton gown beneath the thin quilt covering him. His ankle and lower leg were immobilized in a plaster cast that felt like a block of concrete weighing him down. Looking around, he saw his jeans, shirt, and riding jacket neatly folded and stacked on a small stool in the corner. "Where am I?" he asked the girl.

"I think I should get my father," she said. "He can explain what happened to you more fully. I'm technically a physician's assistant, but he's been heading your case." She spun on her heel and started out the door.

"Wait!" Ji-hoo said. Min-ah stopped and turned to face him, tilting her head quizzically. Ji-hoo didn't meet her eyes. "Are you the one who… Did you… undress me?" He didn't know why, but the thought unnerved him.

Her surprised laugh tinkled through the air like chimes. "No, I didn't. Does that make you feel better? The medics did that when they brought you here. They had to check for hidden contusions and other injuries." With that, she disappeared out the door, leaving Ji-hoo holding onto his unanswered questions.

He didn't have to wait long before the door opened again, admitting a middle-aged man in a white coat. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a face starting to crease with laugh lines, and a pair of old-fashioned bifocals balanced precariously on the end of his rather long nose. As he approached, he smiled with a naturalness that spoke of long habit. This was a cheerful face, and Ji-hoo warmed to it instantly.

"I'm Dr. Kwon," he introduced himself, then glanced at the clipboard in his hand. "Well, young man, you took quite a tumble. I don't suppose I have to tell you that you were going a bit too fast for our little country lane, do I?"

Ji-hoo had the grace to look embarrassed. "No, ajusshi. I was… distracted." He took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

The doctor shrugged good-naturedly. "It wasn't all your fault. That truck was stalled out across both lanes. There was going to be an accident one way or another." He flipped over the top sheet on his clipboard. "Believe it or not, you were very lucky. Most of your injuries are shallow abrasions and bruises. You're going to be very sore for a while. You had your bell rung hard, but there are no signs of subdural hematoma or swelling. The worst of it is your leg, though. You have a pretty bad break in your fibula and a hairline fracture in one of your ankle bones."

"Talus or calcaneus?" Jihoo asked. Dr. Kwon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I'm also a doctor," he explained, "albeit an inexperienced one. I've only been practicing for a few years."

"Well, that brings me to the part of your chart we weren't able to fill out while you were unconscious. What is your name?"

Ji-hoo smiled wryly. "Yoon Ji-hoo," he said, quickly filling in the blanks of his personal information while Min-ah scribbled furiously. "Before we go any farther, would it be all right if I used your phone? My grandfather will be wondering where I am. He hasn't heard from me since yesterday, and I'm sure he's worried."

* * *

Jan-di hung up the phone and slumped back on her pillows in relief. He was okay. Ji-hoo sunbae was all right. Tears spilled over as the emotional exhaustion of the day caught up with her. For a few hours, she had been forced to imagine a world without Yoon Ji-hoo in it, and the bleakness of it had dragged her down into a vortex of fear for him. Life without the reassuring warmth of his friendship? Impossible. She had once told Ga-eul that Jun-pyo was her love, but Ji-hoo was her soulmate. Today had brought home to her how very true that was. His presence in her life was like the music underlying everything else she did. Easy not to notice it, until it stopped.

The thought caused a fresh burst of tears, and she didn't notice that Jun-pyo had entered the room until she felt his weight pressing down on the bed next to her and his warm hand softly brushing away the moisture on her cheeks. Gently, he snaked his arms around her waist and drew her into the curve of his body, just holding her. She relaxed into his embrace and let the tears run their course, grateful for this man she had married, this passionate, emotional man who challenged her, enraged her, loved her, and somehow always managed to know exactly what she needed most from him.

* * *

After getting copies of his x-rays and his chart to take home with him, Ji-hoo stayed to eat dinner with Dr. Kwon and Min-ah-sshi. Their small home was adjacent to the doctor's office, so he hobbled over on a pair of cast-off crutches and shared a delicious pot of ox bone soup. Having slept through two meals, he was ravenous, and, at Min-ah's insistence, took rather more than his fair share.

Looking around, he saw that the three rooms they lived in were piled high with boxes and suitcases. "Are you moving?" he asked.

"You're actually lucky we were here last night. We're in the process of transferring the practice to a new physician," the doctor answered. "It's hard leaving our patients and this community, to be honest, but Min-ah and I are ready for our next great adventure." Min-ah's eyes shone as she nodded at her father.

"Where will you go?" Ji-hoo asked.

Dr. Kwon looked at him with sudden interest, the ghost of an idea in his eyes. "Dr. Yoon, have you ever heard of Doctors Without Borders?"

…

…


	6. Chapter 6

…

(3 years later)

…

The jungle heat was oppressive. As Ji-hoo bent over his patient, a boy about ten years old whose foot had been sliced open by a piece of corrugated tin, a bead of sweat escaped from the nape of his neck and ran between his shoulder blades, traveling downwards to collect at the small of his back and soak into the waistband of his scrubs. The bandana he wore around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes was already soaked with perspiration, but he paid it no heed, his attention fully focused on the tiny stitches he was using to close up the freshly disinfected wound.

Every so often, a precious breeze would spring up, rippling the simple sheets that had been strung up on lines between the trees to form the makeshift field clinic. This tiny village outside of the Colombian township of Zapotal hadn't seen a medical professional in months, and the line of villagers waiting to see "el doctor" seemed endless. Ji-hoo suspected that many of the people were from surrounding areas. News of MSF's temporary clinic here had spread in the few days since they'd arrived, and men, women, and children had poured in, more every day. Injuries like the one this boy, Diego, had were by far the most straightforward to treat. Ji-hoo finished with the stitches, bandaged the foot cleanly, and smiled at his young patient. "Go with my nurse," he said carefully in his broken Spanish. "She will get you the medicine you need, and then you can have a piece of candy!" A grin split the boy's face as Jane Abrams, the British-born nurse who was assisting Ji-hoo today, stepped forward to help him hobble to the tent next door, where he would receive a shot of strong antibiotics and a full set of vaccination boosters. Ji-hoo washed his hands thoroughly and then turned to meet a new patient.

Unfortunately, the next case was more difficult. An examination showed that the forty-something woman was in the last stages of full-blown AIDS. She was gaunt, with a high fever and swollen lymph glands in her armpits and neck. Her skin was blotchy and there were open sores around the edges of her mouth. Her breathing was shallow and labored. Ji-hoo's heart twisted with pity; he knew there was very little he could do. She didn't have much time left. Her teenage son had brought her in. Turning to the boy, he saw the small spark of hope in his eyes flicker and die as he read Ji-hoo's expression. "Here are some pain pills," he said to the teenager, passing him a handful of samples that had been donated by a drug company back in South Korea. "Give her one every four hours. They will make her more comfortable." The boy nodded once, quickly, the effort to keep from releasing the tears collecting in his eyes costing his ability to speak. Ji-hoo reached out and squeezed his shoulder, then helped him walk his mother to the gap in the curtained walls.

Darkness was falling now, and Ji-hoo felt the weariness he had been holding at bay seep heavily into his bones. He signaled the admitting nurse to tell the rest of the patients to go home. He would start seeing them again in the morning.

Rubbing his neck with one hand to work out some of the tension there, he walked across the medical compound toward the staff living quarters, a cluster of canvas tents ringing a long wooden table and a stone-lined fire pit dug into the cleared ground. Entering his sleeping tent, Ji-hoo poured purified water from a plastic jug into the large basin next to his bed and added flakes of powdered soap to it, using his hand to whip it into a thin lather. He stripped off the damp, soiled clothes he had been wearing all day, piling them by the tent flap. Later, he would carry them to edge of camp where the laundry tubs were set up and wash them by hand, hanging them to dry slowly in the humid jungle air. For now, though, he left them in a sodden heap and focused on using the soapy water in the basin to clean the sweat and grime of the day's labors from his body.

The lukewarm water felt wonderful as it ran down his well-muscled frame and onto the dirt floor of the tent. The thirsty ground soaked it up instantly. Ji-hoo ran a hand over his abdomen, where hard work and the physicality of life in the field had done what no amount of golf, basketball, or fencing practice ever had, creating a bronze washboard of lean muscle. He scrubbed at his skin with a rough sponge that he kept for the purpose, making it sting a little. Satisfied, he dropped the sponge into the basin and used more water from the jug to wash the soap away. Leaning over, he poured water over his head, then shampooed the dark locks of his hair until they, too, were clean. He used the last of the water in the jug to rinse out the shampoo, then briskly towel dried himself before slipping into a cool, clean blue t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

Some of the weariness he felt had been rinsed away with the dirt, and he turned eagerly toward the mess tent, suddenly aware of the delicious scent of dinner being prepared. Beef stew, by the smell of it. His hunger flared to life, and he followed the scent to the rows of tables that had been set up outside the kitchen unit. No sooner had he sat down than 5 feet 2 inches of enthusiastic womanhood zoomed up and plopped onto the bench across the table from him. He grinned at her. "Hello, Min-ah."

"I just finished with that little boy you sent over to us at the end of the day," she said with a smile. Min-ah worked in the vaccination station, making sure that patients were matched up with the immunizations that they needed.

"Diego?" he asked.

"Yes, that's him. What an adorable kid! He reminded me so much of my cousin Woo-tan. I just wanted to scoop him up and put him in my pocket!" Ji-hoo laughed at her description. He had a feeling that not many males, young or old, would object to being scooped up by Kwon Min-ah. She was a pretty girl, and her sweet smile drew people to her everywhere she went. She had not had Ji-hoo's difficulties in adjusting to the more demonstrative Colombian culture. She seemed at ease with the relaxed manners and open way of talking that characterized personal interactions in this part of the world. He knew that many of their exploratory forays into new villages would not have gone nearly as smoothly as they had without her easy way with people.

Almost shyly, Min-ah reached across the table and slipped her hand into his. Ji-hoo squeezed it reassuringly, but deep inside he felt a little twinge of uneasiness. He and Min-ah had been dating for a few months now. Of course, as busy as they were, "dating" was something of an exaggeration; there wasn't a lot of time for personal pursuits out here where the people's need was so large and their resources seemed so small. But since arriving in Colombia, they had taken to spending their rare days off together; hiking to the top of tree-covered mountains, zip lining over the tree cover, traveling into the city to enjoy a once-in-a-blue-moon restaurant meal. It was, perhaps, only natural that the two of them had drifted into a romantic relationship.

* * *

He remembered the day Min-ah had confessed to him. They had been hiking to a settlement fifteen miles south of their permanent clinic in Tumaco to establish initial contact. After an hour of hiking, they had just crested a ridge bristling with yopo trees and bright orange marmalade bushes. An amazing vista opened up at their feet, bursting with color and echoing with the sound of tanagers calling to each other across the treetops. After taking a long swig of water, Ji-hoo hoisted his pack higher on his back and turned to set off down the path into the valley. A tremulous voice stopped him. "Ji-hoo sunbae, I wanted to tell you that I… I like you."

He had been blindsided. Turning around, he faced her. Now that she had taken the plunge and spoken the words aloud, she had gained courage. Her face blazed with emotion as she looked at him, head up, small fists clenched by her sides. Her boldness reminded him of another young woman who had stood like that, facing down fear and standing proudly before the firing squad. Something moved in him. Surprising even himself, Ji-hoo had crossed the short distance between them and caught her up in an embrace. He could almost feel the flutter of her heartbeat as she grasped his shirt in her hands. Slowly, gently, he had placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face, looking into her eyes for perhaps the first time. His heart gave a groan. _It's not her_, he thought. The familiar pain of unfulfilled longing pierced him in the same place as always. Min-ah trembled beneath his gaze. He forced himself to remember the truth. _It will __**never**__ be her. It's not fair to Jan-di to keep holding onto her like this. It's not fair to Min-ah. _He clenched his jaw._ It's not fair to __**me**__._

Closing his eyes, he had lowered his lips to hers.

* * *

"Ji-hoo," Min-ah said again, calling him back to the present, "dinner is ready. Let's go line up." He stood, and together they joined the string of people queuing up at the end of the serving table. "Where do you go when you're gazing off into space like that?" she asked him curiously.

He considered her question for a moment before answering, "Lots of places, I guess. The past, the future. Worries. The people I care about. I'm… sorry if it bothers you. Since my parents died when I was young, I've spent a lot of my life alone, living in my own head. It's sort of a habit."

"It doesn't bother me, exactly," she said. "At least, it doesn't most of the time." She struggled to find the words to tell him what she meant. She didn't want to sound insecure and clingy. "But there are moments when your eyes seem to be looking through me, at something I can't see." Ji-hoo opened his mouth to speak, but paused uncertainly. Suddenly, she was afraid of what he might say. She forced a laugh. "That sounds melodramatic, doesn't it? Nevermind. Let's just eat. I'm starving!"

* * *

Later, as they sat finishing their meal with the rest of the staff, sharing the day's observations and blowing off steam, Jane approached carrying a handful of letters and packages. "Mail call!" she announced, and the mood around the table suddenly took on the feeling of a holiday. Though they all enjoyed the work and shared a passion for the people they served, news from home was always a treat.

"David Madison," Jane said, handing a large manila envelope to a white haired man in a floppy hat. David whooped with joy. "It's from my son and his wife," he crowed. "I bet it's pictures of my new grandson!"

Jane continued to hand around parcels and letters while the doctors, nurses, and support staff waited in anticipation, each hoping to hear his or her name. As the pile in her arms dwindled, those who had received word from home grew quiet, reading.

Finally she was down to the last item, a small box sealed with blue packing tape, a Pororo sticker plastered in one corner. "Yoon Ji-hoo," she called, and he raised his hands to receive the package. He glanced at the address label, his eyes lighting up as he read the name written there.

Min-ah watched him closely. "It's from her, isn't it? Geum Jan-di?" She smiled crookedly, trying to appear unaffected, but he wasn't looking at her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" he said, scooping up the box and kissing her on top of the head before heading back across camp to his tent.

"Okay," she said quietly to his retreating back.

…

…


	7. Chapter 7

…

…

Ji-hoo quickly strode across the camp and ducked into his tent, oblivious to Min-ah following him wistfully with her eyes. He let the flap fall closed behind him and set the box down on his bunk. Kneeling down, he dug through his duffel bag until he found a cardboard box of matches. He lit the kerosene lamp, which was sitting on the low crate next to his cot that served as a bedside table. It flared into life, illuminating the space and casting shadows on the canvas walls.

Picking up the package, Ji-hoo examined the outside of it more closely. He had instantly recognized Jan-di's neat, blocky writing, even before he read her name. He could picture her bent over the address label, carefully copying out the address in Spanish, double checking to make sure it was correct. He rubbed his thumb over the Pororo sticker pressed into one corner and smiled to himself. Definitely an addition made by little Hee-jin, whose love of the cartoon penguin knew no bounds. Eagerly, he used his pocketknife to slit the tape and then opened the cardboard flaps. A white envelope labeled simply "sunbae" lay on the top; he set it aside for the moment, wanting to savor the anticipation of reading Jan-di's latest news. Underneath it, the box was packed tightly with several wrapped parcels.

Opening one, he found a drawstring bag filled with hard candies, stickers, and pens. A card tied to the string said "—For Your Patients". He smiled widely. It was so like Jan-di to remember the offhand comment he'd made on his last visit home about the children liking the small tokens he had brought over from Korea. He kept in touch with everyone, of course, but she was his only friend who seemed genuinely interested in what he was doing over here, half a world away. When he had visited at Christmas, she and Jun-pyo had invited him over for dinner and drinks one night. Jun-pyo had fallen asleep on the couch, but Jan-di had kept Ji-hoo up late asking questions about Colombia. What were the people like? Which health needs were the most pressing? What did he do during a typical day? Had he made friends with the other staff members? Uncharacteristically, he had talked for hours, painting a detailed and colorful picture of life in South America—the gregarious people, the heartbreaking poverty, the sense of purpose he felt every day. Jan-di had listened with a rapt expression on her face, as if she could see it all in her imagination. The interest in her voice and in her eyes was real. In that moment, he had allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to be seeing and doing all of these things with Jan-di at his side. He usually didn't indulge in "what if" thinking, but for just a few seconds, he had immersed himself in the dream of it, of nights and days in the field, working and playing together. Then Hee-jin had toddled out from her bedroom, breaking the spell. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and charmingly demanding an extra hug from "sunbae". He found it amusing that the three year-old had adopted her mother's name for him. No one bothered to correct her, least of all him. He had hugged Hee-jin, said goodnight, and flown out two days later.

Reaching into the box, Ji-hoo drew out a blocky, rectangular parcel that he could tell contained books. Ripping off the paper, he examined the two titles. One was a novel by Lee Woo-hyuk entitled The Soul Guardians. It appeared to be a fantasy. He would read it and then pass it along to Min-ah; she loved adventure and fantasy books. Reading material was scarce, so most books were passed around among the staff to be enjoyed by all. The second book was a small volume of poetry by Park Dong-jin, his favorite poet. He flipped through the pages and opened it at random.

_._

_when the clock of my days runs down_

_last minutes ticking slowly past_

_on their way to _

_wherever time goes when it's used up_

_._

_I'll lie down happily_

_my face to the warm earth_

_and let it drink my memories of you_

_down to the last drop_

_._

_all our moments_

_all our meanings_

_down into the dry cracks of the earth to_

_nourish the next generation_

_._

_emptied, I will be arid and light_

_and float into the sky _

_I will join you in the stars _

_to share their silent, satisfied sleep_

_._

Ji-hoo closed the book softly and set it on his table. Jan-di probably didn't remember, but it was the same poet whose work he'd read aloud to her that day after she had taken refuge in his home, seeking protection from the schemes of Jun-pyo's mother. He had confessed to her that day, or at least he'd tried to. Thinking to let the words of others speak for him, he'd read to her of love, only to find that she had fallen asleep. How he'd kicked himself afterwards. What kind of confession was that? If he'd had half of her courage, he would have woken her. He would have taken her in his arms and told her all that was in his heart. He would have kissed the lips he'd been staring at all day—not the chaste kiss he'd given her in New Caledonia, but a kiss that seared and ignited, branding her with all the pent up want in his soul, all the words he'd held back for fear of being too greedy.

With an effort, he turned his thoughts to Min-ah. Sweet, pretty, friendly Min-ah. He had a chance to start over again, he knew. He was the one holding back, the one who couldn't quite bring himself to jump with both feet. When he imagined the future, stretching out into years before him, the thought of spending that time alone, increasingly consumed by his work, was frightening. He could have all the things he'd dreamed of—a wife, children, a house filled with noise and life—if only he asked for it. It could be pleasant; Min-ah would not be hard to live with. _Maybe,_ he reasoned with himself, _I could even fall in love with her, given time. _Many people carved out lives married to someone they weren't particularly passionate about, especially among those of his class, whose marriages were often dictated by their parents. Sometimes love came later, or at least a deep friendship. A marriage could be built on worse foundations; he'd seen it. And yet… he couldn't bring himself to do it. He could see that Min-ah had developed a deep attachment to him, but something inside him balked at the idea of letting her tie herself to him when he couldn't offer her his whole heart. It would be one of the most selfish things he could do.

_What is wrong with me?_ he wondered. _Why can't I move on? Yoon Ji-hoo, you are the worst kind of fool!_ Though no one was pressuring him, he knew he couldn't let Min-ah wait much longer without being cruel. He would have to make a decision soon.

He turned his attention back to the box. The next parcel had a note scribbled on the brown paper wrapping. It said, _"Come back soon and I'll give you the rest of it, jerk! –Jun-pyo"_. Ji-hoo chuckled and tore into the paper; he found that whatever it was had been rolled in several feet of bubble wrap. He pulled it away to reveal a small brown bottle of Glenlivet scotch. It was what the F4 had drunk together the night that Jun-pyo revealed that he was going to be a father.

They had taken the cable car to the top of Namsan mountain and Jun-pyo had shouted his news over the rooftops of Seoul. Many drinks and hours later, he had dissolved into tears. Only Ji-hoo's arm around his shoulders held him upright as he sobbed out his fears that he wouldn't have what it took, that he didn't know how to be a father. What if he passed on his own father's legacy of broken promises and neglect? Ji-hoo had let him cry, recognizing all the bitterness pouring out of him as the healthy draining of an abscess that had been festering inside Jun-pyo all his life. When, in the early hours of the morning, Ji-hoo had left him standing at the front doors of his and Jan-di's apartment building, Jun-pyo had been quiet and clear-eyed, a new resolve showing itself in the line of his mouth and in the firm squeeze he gave Ji-hoo's shoulder before turning to enter the building. His grateful parting look didn't need words. It had been one of the most powerful moments of their friendship.

There was one package left. It was small, about four inches across, and the brown paper it was wrapped in was tied with a narrow yellow ribbon. He untied it and slowly folded back the paper. Inside was a burnished bronze fireman's badge. It was engraved with the image of two crossed bugles over a ladder, and the letters "NYFD" were curved along the bottom edge. He grasped its significance at once. A soft smile curved his lips as he ran his finger across the grooves. _Geum Jan-di's Firefighter_. He wondered if he could still claim the title from nine thousand miles away.

Finally, tucking the badge away in the pocket of his duffel bag, he picked up Jan-di's letter and opened it.

_..._

_Dear Sunbae,_

_I hope this is able to find you in your new location. How is the work going in Zapotal? I thought these trinkets might help you make a connection with the kids when they meet you for the first time. I'm still using hot cocoa and peppermint sticks to draw out the shy kids at the clinic. Isn't it funny how children are the same everywhere you go? Speaking of children, Hee-jin-a helped me pick out the candy, so it's been approved by an expert._

_She loves the toy medical kit you gave her at Christmas, and frequently leaves the house wearing the white coat with the stethoscope around her neck. I caught her holding down our cat, G-Dragon, the other day and trying to stick the thermometer in his mouth. I tried to explain that G-Dragon didn't like it, but she was determined. It's hard to believe she's only three; I've never seen someone so stubborn! Of course, Jun-pyo _**_is_**_ her father…_

_And you're her mother_, Ji-hoo thought, laughing to himself. Between the two of them, poor Hee-jin had never stood a chance of becoming a shrinking violet.

_ She keeps asking about you, Sunbae. I think you made quite an impression on your last visit. Or maybe it was the candy you keep in your pocket. When she heard I was writing you a letter, she insisted that she would color a picture for you; she's sitting beside me and working on it right now. I'll be sure to include it when I mail this._

Ji-hoo flipped to the back page of the letter and found Hee-jin's picture. It was a series of loopy purple and blue swirls surrounding a circle with a clumsily drawn face and two lines coming out of the bottom—a person, clearly. He admired it with affection, then smoothed it out and pinned it to his clipboard under his patient notes.

_Things at the clinic are going well. I think Grandfather is a bit lonely. He drops by all the time to chat with the patients or to take me to lunch. Yesterday, he had about a dozen children gathered around him in the waiting room, listening to him read a book. You should have seen his eyes twinkling! I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that Hee-jin has him wrapped around her little finger. I narrowly stopped him from buying her a pony last week! A pony! Honestly! _

Ji-hoo smiled wryly at this. Grandfather was not a man built for solitude. At this time in his life, he should have been surrounded by little ones, great granddaughters and great grandsons to bounce on his knee and spoil with presents. He never mentioned it, but Ji-hoo knew that he was hoping his grandson would make that dream a reality. The weight of guilt Ji-hoo felt grew as he pictured the old man alone in their big house in Seoul.

_Well, I'd like to write more, but I'm taking Hee-jin to meet Jun-pyo for lunch. He's leaving for New York in a few days on a business trip. He'll be gone for three weeks, so we're trying to get in as much family time as possible before then. Thank goodness for video calling! Let me know when your jungle gets a wifi set up, will you? I really miss your face!_

_Love, __Jan-di_

_p.s. I asked Jun-pyo to pick up the badge on his last trip to America. I hope you like it. I thought it was past time Geum Jan-di's firefighter was decorated for his valor!_

_... _

Ji-hoo gently folded the paper up and slipped it into his pocket. Moving the box out of the way, he lay back on his cot and stared up at the roof of the tent. He missed her so much it was almost a physical ache. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to the future. He'd gotten a notice from headquarters a few days ago. His original commitment to Doctors Without Borders would be coming to an end in a couple of weeks. He could renew his contract and stay here if he wished, or he could choose another location and start all over again in a new country; some staff members really relished the opportunity to travel to different places and experience different cultures. Or he could return home. He was torn between his strong homesickness and a real belief in the importance of the work they were doing. Min-ah had been not-so-subtly hinting that the two of them should sign on together for one of the new field hospitals going up to serve refugees in South Sudan.

_I could do that,_ he thought. _I could follow her. But not like this. If we do move on together, I have to stop wavering, stop making her wait, and commit myself to her fully._ He tried to picture life married to Min-ah—tried to call up the vision of waking up next to her, of being a father to her children—but all he could think about was Jan-di. The way her eyes crinkled up when she laughed. Her fierce anger at injustice. Her ability to smile through the tears no matter how bad things looked. How maddeningly stubborn she was when she thought she was protecting the ones she loved. And he knew, suddenly and irrevocably, that he couldn't be with Min-ah. He couldn't be with anyone. There would always and only be one woman in Ji-hoo's heart, and even if he couldn't stay by her side the way he once dreamed, he would spend the rest of his life happily caught in the periphery of her orbit. He would be content with her friendship if it meant that he could see her smile, hear her laugh, and be counted forever in the small group of people that Geum Jan-di truly loved.

He would return to Seoul.

Now that the decision was made, he felt curiously light. He didn't relish the meeting ahead of him, however. He hated the thought of hurting the sweet girl who had come to love him. But the guilt he had felt for months, the traitorous dividing of his heart whenever he was with her, was gone at last, and he knew he was doing the right thing. Tomorrow he would talk with her, would release her, and she could begin again. They both could.

His thoughts were interrupted when the girl herself burst into his tent unannounced, clearly in a panic. He leapt to his feet in alarm.

Min-ah's face was white, and she was clutching a scrap of paper. She held it out to him in a trembling hand. "Ji-hoo-ah," she said, her breath hitching in her chest, "this just came for you. A runner from town delivered it." Her eyes were full of agony, but not for herself. Abruptly, terror gripped Ji-hoo; he didn't want to see what was written on that paper. As if in response to the fear, his head was suddenly filled with a terrible certainty. He could hear it. After years of silence, the fire alarm in Geum Jan-di's heart was going off.

Pulse pounding, Ji-hoo took the paper from Min-ah and looked down at it.

It was a telegram from So Yi-jung. Eleven words. That's all it took to tear the world apart:

_**Plane crashed. Jun-pyo is gone. Come home now. Jan-di is broken.**_

For the barest moment, time seemed to stop, hanging suspended and unchanging in the air between them, as if the world had stilled its spinning to drink in the moment of icy cold shock that had overtaken Ji-hoo. He couldn't make sense of the words. Jun-pyo? Gone? How could that be? He couldn't hear past the roar in his ears. He stood frozen, his mind in chaos, grasping wildly for meaning in the words staring out from the white paper. Paralysis gripped him with cold fingers. Then the last words jumped off the page at him. _Jandi is broken._

The moment passed, sound returned, and everything swirled together in a whirling maelstrom of sudden action. He had to go home, **now.**

Ji-hoo had already started gathering his belongings from all over the tent, thrusting them haphazardly into his duffel bag, when he realized that Min-ah was still standing there, watching him in silence. He moved to her and wrapped his hands around her upper arms.

"Min-ah," he began, but before he could say anything more, she interrupted.

"I know," she said. "I've known for a while. I just… hoped I was wrong."

Ji-hoo pulled her into an embrace, holding her close in apology. He felt it when her warm tears soaked through his shirt, and tightened his arms around her.

"I am so thankful for the time I've spent with you," he said. "You deserve so much more than what I've given you. You deserve a better goodbye. But I…"

"You have to go to her," Min-ah finished for him. "It's...okay. She needs you now. Hurry! If you catch a ride with the delivery boy, you can probably still make the last mail flight to Cartagena tonight."

Ji-hoo's heart swelled with gratitude for the sweet spirit of the girl before him. He threw the last of his clothes into his bag and zipped it shut. Hoisting it over his shoulder, he turned to face her.

"You are something special, Kwon Min-ah," he said, and laid a hand on her head.

She took the hand and pressed a kiss into it, curling his fingers into a fist around it.

"I know. Now, run!"

...

She waited until the Jeep was out of sight before she let the tears come.

…

…


	8. Chapter 8

...

It was dark and quiet in Geum Jan-di's bedroom. She sat huddled on the large leather chair in the corner, hugging her knees. On the wall, the clock ticked out the seconds. She focused on the small sound. _…tick…tick…tick…_ She didn't notice when the seconds rolled into minutes, or when the minutes gathered into hours. She just let the sound wash over her, let it swell inside of her, wordless and impersonal, pushing out all other thoughts.

_…tick…tick…tick…tick…_

Jan-di's eyes were dry. She felt… she cast around for a word. Numb. Yes. That was it. She was numb, and she welcomed it. From the moment Secretary Cha had shown up at her door the day before yesterday, his sorrowful eyes brimming with unshed tears as he haltingly unpacked the weight of his terrible news, she had been like this. She couldn't make the words make sense. They broke against her like waves. _The plane… mechanical malfunction… wreckage… all passengers lost… Jun-pyo… Jun-pyo…_

At the thought of his name, the image of his face swam before her eyes, and she felt a tiny pressure at the edge of the numbness, something trying to break through. She pushed it away. _…tick…tick…tick…tick…_ The pressure receded. She closed her eyes.

She remembered once, as a little girl, she had taken a terrible spill from her bicycle. She had hit a curb and gone flying over the handlebars, landing in a scraped up heap on the concrete. It had knocked the wind out of her. For long seconds, she had lain in the dirt, silently opening and closing her mouth, struggling to draw a breath that wouldn't come. The silence was deceptive; anyone watching from far away might have assumed she was fine. But it wasn't peace; it was paralysis. When oxygen finally filled her starved lungs, she had wailed with such force that neighbors came out of their homes to see who was hurting the poor child.

This quiet detachment she felt now reminded her of that moment of paralysis, as if her whole being was trapped in a cocoon of airlessness, trying and failing to draw breath. She wondered what would happen when that breath came, and found that she was afraid. She hugged her knees more tightly and listened to the clock.

_…tick…_

...

* * *

...

In the living room of Jun-pyo's and Jan-di's apartment, a whispered conference was taking place.

"She's still not talking," worried Ga-eul. Her brow creased with frustration. "I just wish I knew what I could do for her."

Jan-di's mother, Na Gong-joo, placed a comforting hand on Ga-eul's arm. "I know you do." She knew from sad experience that there wasn't a "right" thing to say at a time like this. Some hurts were so deep, so profound, that the mind simply couldn't bear them all at once. Her heart ached for her sweet daughter. Though she was in the next room, she was unreachable. All they could do was wait for her to come back to them.

Yi-jung seemed almost as worried as his wife. "Should we take her to a hospital?"

"No, not yet," Gong-joo replied. "She's physically okay, I think. Maybe Ji-hoo's grandfather could come over and just check on her." _At least she's still eating,_ Gong-joo thought. Jan-di didn't ask for anything, but neither did she fight them when they drew her out of her room and sat her down at the table for meals. She ate mechanically, scooping food into her mouth, chewing and swallowing each bite without comment, until her bowl was empty. "She's just reeling from the shock. Grief is different with everyone." Gong-joo tried to draw comfort from her own words. She'd never seen her daughter like this.

Ga-eul sighed. "Well, Hee-jin can stay at our house as long as she needs to. Ma-ru has been enjoying having another child to play with. He follows her around like she hung the moon." Tears sprang to Ga-eul's eyes at the thought of Hee-jin. The little girl didn't even know yet that anything was wrong. No one thought it was their place to tell her that her appa was not coming home, and Jan-di was certainly in no state to do it.

"Thank you," said Gong-joo. "I know she should be with family right now, but…" She left the sentence unfinished. The fact was that there were no family members who could take her at the moment. Gong-joo was caring for Jan-di, Jun-pyo's father was ill, and Kang Hee-soo… well, at the news of her son's death, she had unwound like a broken toy. When she heard that Jun-pyo's plane had gone down, something had snapped inside of her. She had screamed and fallen upon the messenger from the airline like an avenging spirit, gouging his arms with her long fingernails before her personal assistant could push himself between them. "That's not true!" she shrieked, "It's not true!" Flying around the room, she hurled vases and sculptures and everything that she could lay her hands on, destroying an antique china cabinet and breaking three windows. The storm, rather than blowing itself out, only increased in intensity, and her hoarse screams echoed through the halls of the large house until all the servants were in hiding, wondering what demon had possessed their normally cool and taciturn mistress. Her assistant called emergency services; police subdued her and medics on the scene sedated her and put her to bed as, even in her drugged sleep, she moaned over and over, "It's not true! It's not true!" Jun-hee, Jun-pyo's older sister, though racked with grief herself, had flown in to care for her suddenly feeble mother.

No, Hee-jin was better off with Ga-eul and Yi-jung for now.

The door to the apartment opened, and they all turned their heads to see Song Woo-bin walk in. "I got word from my sources," said Woo-bin grimly. "They definitely found pieces of the fuselage floating in the ocean, but they haven't yet been able to locate the main body of the plane. A trench cuts right through the ocean floor in that area, and they think the wreckage may have disappeared into it." His voice betrayed him, shaking a little as he added, "There's a chance they'll never recover the bodies."

Silence permeated the room as they all sank miserably into their own morbid thoughts. It was still so hard to believe that Jun-pyo—loud, funny, loyal, passionate, maddening Jun-pyo—was gone from this world. How could it be? And what could they possibly do to ease the pain of the wife and child he'd left behind?

After a few minutes, during which no one felt like talking, Yi-jung and Ga-eul rose and quietly excused themselves. They needed to get home and relieve Yi-jung's mother, who was watching the children. With a hug for Gong-joo and a concerned glance at Jan-di's bedroom door, they left. Gong-joo invited Woo-bin to stay for dinner. Friends and neighbors had brought over more food than the family could eat, so there was plenty to share. Woo-bin thanked her, but declined. "I have to go to the Gu family home and tell Jun-hee what I've found out, precious little though it is." He bowed to Gong-joo and left, gently closing the door behind him before heading to the elevator and stepping inside. He stabbed at the button for the parking level with uncharacteristic fury. He felt completely helpless for the first time in his life, and it frustrated him. He was out of his element. There was no enemy here for him to fight. Death had reached out an invisible hand and stolen one of his best friends, and there was nothing he could do about it. If only there was someone he could hit, some monster he could kill, perhaps the strangled, suffocating feeling in his chest would go away. The elevator doors opened, and he crossed the darkened parking garage toward his car, hoping that someone would get in his way.

...

* * *

...

After everyone had gone, Jan-di's mother stood alone in the quiet room and succumbed to tears. Her poor daughter, her precious granddaughter—in an instant, life had changed for both of them. No one knew better than she did how difficult it was to recover from the loss of a father. Gong-joo's father had died of cancer when she was a girl of nine. Her mother had tried to be both father and mother to her, but nothing could cover up the hole that was made by his passing. She remembered hearing her mother's quiet weeping many nights after Gong-joo had gone to bed, first in grief and then sometimes in loneliness as years passed. She had never remarried. Were those endless lonely nights to be Jan-di's fate as well?

Drying her eyes, Gong-joo went into the kitchen and started opening containers so she could heat up some food. Jan-di's father, Il-bong, would be working late tonight, so she only set out enough for herself and Jan-di. She filled a tray with a little bit of everything and shouldered her way into her daughter's bedroom. Jan-di was still sitting in the chair in the corner, looking as if she hadn't moved in hours. Only the tiniest flicker of her eyes showed that she knew her mother had entered the room. Gong-joo set the tray down on the table next to the chair, arranging the side dishes around the bowl of japchae. "Jan-di-ah, you need to eat," she said, placing the chopsticks in her hand. Obediently, Jan-di turned toward the tray and began scooping up mouthfuls of noodles. After watching her for a few moments, Gong-joo turned away, moisture gathering in her eyes.

...

* * *

...

Ji-hoo paused in the hallway outside Jan-di's front door. He had come straight from the airport, sending his bags ahead to his house. On the cab ride over, he'd talked briefly to Yi-jong on the phone, so he had an idea of what waited for him on the other side of that door. What he didn't know was what he could do to help. What words did you use when words were useless? It didn't matter. The woman whose friendship meant more to him than his own life was hurt and afraid, and he was going to be whatever it was she needed for as long as she needed it. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

The door swung open, and Jan-di's mother was standing there. The look of surprise on her face was quickly superseded by one he didn't expect: relief. He bowed. "Na Gong-joo-ssi." She took his hands warmly and pulled him into the apartment, her sad eyes never leaving his face. "Ji-hoo-ssi. I am glad you're here." Gesturing for him to be comfortable, she went into the kitchen area and began bustling around. "Have you eaten?" she asked, already pulling together dishes.

"I have," he answered, opting not to sit down. Instead, he asked her tentatively, "How is... how is Jan-di?"

A shadow flicked across her eyes. "I don't know. She won't talk. She won't cry. It's as if she's checked out. I know it must be the shock, but I don't know what to do for her." Gong-joo looked miserable. The worry was taking its toll on her.

"May I… see her?" he whispered.

Gong-joo nodded. "It can't hurt." She led Ji-hoo over to Jan-di's room and opened the door. Jan-di had finished eating and had returned to her curled up position in the room's only chair. She appeared to be staring off into space. Shaking her head, Jan-di's mother left them alone, closing the door softly behind her.

Ji-hoo was taken aback by the state of Jan-di's appearance. Her hair was stringy and uncombed, pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her face was drawn, her cheeks hollow. The sweatshirt she was wearing was covered with food stains. He vaguely wondered if it was what she'd been wearing when the news came. Even now, she seemed unaware of his presence. It was as if the spark of life in her had temporarily fled, leaving this empty, breathing shell behind.

It scared him badly.

He strode forward and knelt down in front of her. Reaching out, he took both of her hands and clasped them between his own, willing his warmth and life into the pale, still fingers. His gaze never left her face. Slowly, Jan-di raised her eyes to meet his.

She blinked. "Sunbae?" she asked in the voice of a bewildered child, her lip trembling slightly.

"I'm here." It was all he knew to say.

"Sunbae?" she said again, and it came out as a whimper this time. He couldn't stop looking at her eyes as awareness bloomed in them, quickly followed by a dawning horror. She looked at him. "Sunbae—Jun-pyo is… he's…" A shudder ran through her small body. "Jun-pyo is…" Her voice faded into near silence and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"I know," he said miserably, wanting to save her the anguish of speaking it out loud, but she squeezed his fingers to stop him from continuing. Opening her eyes, she tried again.

"Sunbae, Jun-pyo is… dead." As if the words had broken some seal inside her, sudden tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, wetting her dry cheeks. A convulsive sob racked her body, followed by another. Soon she was sobbing in earnest, loudly gasping for breath as wave after wave of delayed sorrow poured out of her in a torrent.

Ji-hoo's heart twisted inside him at the sound of Jan-di's pain, and without a thought, he threw his arms around her, holding her tightly within their protective circle, as if he alone could keep her from blowing away in the tempest. Her cries tore at him, and somewhere in the midst of the maelstrom, he found that he was crying right along with her. "Jun-pyo," his tormented mind cried out, "how can you be gone? What will happen to her without you?"

The hurricane of grief raged through them for an interminable time; it could have been minutes or hours. Ji-hoo knew that it was only the beginning of her tears, but three days of exhaustion had finally come to claim Jan-di. Her sobs grew gradually quieter and quieter, until all that was left was her deep, hitching breaths, broken here and there with faint echoes of tears.

He wanted to hold her longer, but she needed rest. Her eyelids were already closing when Ji-hoo lifted her onto her bed. He unfolded the quilt lying on the ottoman and tenderly covered her with it. When he turned around to leave the room, he saw Jan-di's mother standing in the doorway, gratitude shining on her face.

...

* * *

...

The memorial service was held the next day. Jan-di wept throughout the ceremony, her grief finally given a voice. Little Hee-jin, dressed in a tiny black hanbok, solemnly held her grandmother's hand and allowed herself to be led through the ritual bowing. The remaining three members of the F4 stood in the place of the sangju. It was an untraditional arrangement, but no one who saw the loss and pain on their faces could say that they weren't family. To Ji-hoo, the day passed in a haze of surrealism. Could this actually be happening? As he looked at his best friend's photo, hung with black ribbon, his mind kept flashing through their shared memories: Jun-pyo breaking his toy robot, the four of them playing hide-and-seek in the Gu mansion, Secretary Jung catching them smoking in the back garden during an F4 sleepover when they were 13, Jun-pyo punching him in the Macao airport, Jun-pyo asking him to watch over Jan-di and protect her. Thanks to Jun-pyo, Ji-hoo had never felt like an only child. And now his brother was gone. His heart hurt in a way that he hadn't felt since his parents died, so many years ago.

If he was tempted to cope with this pain in the same way, by withdrawing into his own private world, one look at Jan-di, so small and vulnerable as she reached out to draw her child to her side, would not allow it. "Watch over her," Jun-pyo had said to him on that day so long ago.

And that was what Ji-hoo intended to do.

...


	9. Chapter 9

…

(2 years later)

…

* * *

…

"Aigoo!" shouted Jan-di in frustration as she felt the heel of her shoe catch in a crack in the sidewalk and snap off. She stumbled against the brick building beside her, snagging the weave of her sweater on the rough surface, making a jagged hole in the sleeve. Today of all days, she could not spare a moment for the small catastrophes that seemed to follow her around.

_I should have known not to wear heels,_ she chided herself. _No matter how much practice I get, I've never really learned to walk in them._ Making a decision, she pulled the strappy shoes off and ran barefoot down the street to a small clothing shop at the corner that she remembered from when she and her family used to live in this district. Murmuring a prayer of thanks that it was still there, she ducked inside and bought an inexpensive pair of soft canvas trainers. Catching sight of herself in the mirror next to the door, she stifled a laugh. She was pretty sure lime green sneakers were not the accessory Jun-hee unni had had in mind when she'd bought Jan-di the elegant rose-colored dress as this year's birthday gift.

_Birthday!_ she remembered, and bowed a hasty goodbye to the ajhumma before running out of the store. Hee-jin's 5th birthday party would start in an hour, and Jan-di still needed to run by the bakery for the birthday cake, make the seaweed soup, and pick up Hee-jin from kindergarten. How was she going to get it all done? She steeled herself and picked up the pace. By the time she got to the bakery, she was out of breath. Worse, the decorator was still putting the finishing touches on the cake, so Jan-di had to wait. Hee-jin had wanted a mermaid themed party, so the baker had designed a beautiful two-tiered Italian cream cake covered with overlapping "scales" made of carefully cut fondant brushed with blue-green pearlescent powder so that it shimmered and sparkled liked a true undersea creature. Gossamer ribbons of spun sugar swirled around the base of the cake, and a perfectly sculpted mermaid princess perched on the top layer, her crown emblazoned with tiny candy jewels.

Jan-di watched as the last of the glossy piping was applied, marveling at the extravagant confection, its appearance so unlike the homely and modest birthday cakes of her youth. And yet, her mother had baked her love into every one of them, and Jan-di doubted that even this beautiful monstrosity would taste as good as the homemade raisin nut cake Jan-di had received on her 5th birthday. She smiled at the memory. Her father had carried her around the room on his shoulders, shouting huzzahs and happy birthdays to her until the neighbor had pounded on the wall to complain about the noise. They had laughed together, and then he had resumed his marching, his chanting turned down to a comical whisper. She had felt so loved. She hoped that Hee-jin would feel the same. _If only Jun-pyo could be here…_ Jan-di swiped away a traitorous tear—they still surprised her at odd moments—and forced herself to focus on the time. Only forty minutes left!

The sound of violin music interrupted her panic. Her phone. She fished it out from the recesses of her purse and answered it, "Hello?"

"I'm leaving the clinic and thought you might need an extra hand," came a welcome voice. "Would you like me to stop by Hee-jin's school and pick her up?"

"Sunbae!" Relief flooded through her. "Yes, please. That would help so much. I'm stuck at the bakery, and I'm running out of time!"

Ji-hoo chuckled softly at the frustration in her voice. Jan-di had meant to leave work earlier in the day, he knew, but a last-minute patient had come in with worry etched on her face, asking to see "the lady doctor". Soft-hearted Jan-di couldn't turn her away. Despite her tight schedule, she had given the woman all her attention, taking care to make sure she didn't feel rushed as she spilled her concerns. The compassion that flowed naturally through Jan-di always touched Ji-hoo. She was like a tiny sun that warmed everyone around her, including him. It was one of the reasons he loved her.

"Don't worry," he said. "Do what you need to do. The two of us will meet you at your place."

* * *

Jan-di felt her stress drain away as she hung up. Now that Ji-hoo sunbae was involved, she knew everything would fall into place. He had a way of making things work out. She wasn't even surprised that he had called; he always seemed to know when she needed him most. _My firefighter, _she thought fondly. _How would Hee-jin and I have survived this long without him?_

The first year after Jun-pyo's death had been the hardest. It seemed that every corner of Seoul, every date on the calendar, was filled with memories of Jun-pyo. They had assailed her at every turn, flooding her with grief, blinding her with tears. There was the playground where he'd kissed her for the first time; there was the bridge where they'd promised one another that nothing could separate them; there was the skating rink where they'd spun together on the ice like planets in orbit around each other. She hadn't been able to step foot on Namsan at all that year. Days kept knocking her down. Their wedding anniversary. Jun-pyo's 100 day memorial. His birthday. Then there was the anniversary of their first date—a day they had celebrated every year by going back to their cable car to see the note Jun-pyo had scribbled on the wall as Jan-di slept that crazy night away: "Gu Jun-pyo & Geum Jan-di – First Night!" Jan-di always faked embarrassment, but she loved to look at those words and think about how Jun-pyo had known from the first that they were meant to be together. When Hee-jin had been born, he had brought them both to the cable car so he could add her birthday to the little inscription: "Gu Hee-jin – our firstborn!" Jan-di had laughed, remarking that some families had a family Bible to record important dates, but only theirs had a cable car. The thought of going there without him was too much. It was their sacred place.

Long after other friends had gone back to their lives, Ji-hoo sunbae had walked with them through the worst of the grief. In his steady way, he had been beside her at every crossroads, waiting to see what she needed from him. Sometimes it was escape, like the day he found her crying over a pair of Jun-pyo's shoes she'd found in the back of the closet and had whisked her away for a distracting movie and a quiet picnic at the park. Sometimes she just needed him to be present, offering his silent strength as she did something difficult, like standing up to her mother-in-law. Madame Kang had reacted to the loss of her son by trying to replace him with her granddaughter. One day, just weeks after the funeral, she had showed up at the clinic and insisted that Jan-di deliver her small daughter to the Gu mansion to be raised "in a manner befitting the future Shinhwa heir". Jan-di showed great restraint at this preposterous suggestion, coolly informing Kang Hee-Soo in no uncertain terms that _she_ would be raising Hee-jin, thank you, and that Kang Hee-Soo would remain welcome to see Hee-jin whenever she wished, as long as she refrained from the kind of ridiculous scheming she had used against her own son and daughter. That the scene had not escalated beyond the one terse exchange was due partly to Jan-di's forced calm and partly to the inhibiting effect of Ji-hoo's silent witness to the scene. Nothing more had been said on the matter.

Yes, Jan-di had come to appreciate the gift of Ji-hoo's presence in her life more than ever, if that was possible.

* * *

When the cake was finally finished, she flagged down a cab and headed back to the apartment. Taking the elevator to her floor, she fought to balance the heavy cake box in arms already loaded down with shopping bags. When she stepped out into her hallway, she could hear Hee-jin's laughter spilling out through the closed front door, bringing a grateful smile to her face. It was one of her favorite sounds, her little girl's laughter. Ji-hoo was so good at bringing that out in her.

Unable to reach her keys, Jan-di aimed a couple of low kicks at the door by way of knocking. "Umma!" came the cry from inside. In another moment, the door swung open and Ji-hoo was relieving her of her packages. She followed him into the main room. "Umma!" exclaimed Hee-jin again, running to her mother and throwing her arms around Jan-di's legs.

Affectionately, Jan-di bent to pick up the girl and retired to the plush couch for a good cuddle. Every time she held Hee-jin like this, a rush of mother-love rose up in her, filling her all over again with the wonder she felt the first time her tiny newborn was laid in her arms. And now Hee-jin was five! The time was passing too quickly. Like many mothers before her, Jan-di wished for a way to slow down the precious days so she could soak every ounce of joy from them while they lasted. And like many mothers before her, she bore the bittersweet knowledge that no such miracle existed. She would just have to make the most of the time she had. She nuzzled her face into Hee-jin's soft, sweet-smelling hair and asked her, "And what have you and Ji-hoo sunbae been up to while you waited for me, minimus?"

Hee-jin hopped up, grabbed Jan-di's hand, and pulled her toward the kitchen, where she finally noticed that Ji-hoo was busily engaged in making seaweed soup. The delicious smell filled the air, making Jan-di's mouth water. "Sunbae!" she exclaimed for the second time that day. "You already started the soup?" Once again, a sense of gratitude washed over her. Unthinkingly, she threw her arms around his waist. "Thank you! How do you always know just what to do?"

Ji-hoo froze, surprised. He had been so careful over the past two years not to push Jan-di's boundaries, not to intrude on her grief with his own feelings. Despite his ever-increasing attachment to her, he strove to keep their interactions comfortable and non-threatening. She had needed a friend, and he had volunteered to be one. And yet, there were so many times when he had longed for more, had ached to reach out and touch her. As his appreciation for her sweet spirit and courageous character continued to grow, so too did his craving for her, his desire to at last be something to her besides the faithful friend.

As she pressed against him now, he obeyed the compulsion to reach up and put his arms around her. It was heaven. Warmth seeped into him everywhere their bodies touched. He found himself noticing the smell of her shampoo, the fabric of her dress, as if his mind was bent on stamping the smallest details of this precious moment on his memory.

Too soon, she pulled away, her mind already engaged in last minute preparations. She began to set the table with bowls and plates for the party.

Shaken, Ji-hoo turned back to the stove and stirred the soup, buying time to compose himself.

Suddenly Jan-di's phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. She walked out of the kitchen to answer it, flopping down on the couch and kicking her stocking feet up to rest on a pillow.

"Hello, Umma," she chirped, "What time are you coming over?... The party is not until six o'clock, but you can come early to play with Hee-jin if you want to. She'd like that." Ji-hoo tried not to listen to Jan-di's side of the conversation, but the open layout of the apartment made it difficult. His eyes kept drifting up from the soup pot to find her sprawled out comfortably on the sofa. She twirled her hair around her finger as she talked, and Ji-hoo was reminded forcibly of the teenage Jan-di who had first come to Shinhwa High School all those years ago. In some ways, she hadn't changed at all. It made him smile. It took a moment for him to realize she was looking at him and smiling back. His breath caught in his chest. That smile. A year ago, he had wondered if he'd ever see it again. Now here it was. Contentment flooded through him. He focused again on the soup, adding some tarragon and salting it lightly.

Jan-di leaned her head back against the arm of the couch. "Aigoo! Stop worrying. I'm not doing everything by myself. In fact, Ji-hoo sunbae is here helping right now. He's been a superhero today. Thanks to him, there will actually be something for everyone to eat when they get here!" She paused, listening to her mother's response. "I know. He's the best." She laughed. "It's like having a second brother!"

Ji-hoo's head jerked up. _Brother? _Had he heard her right? She thought of him as another brother? His heart thumped painfully. That wouldn't do at all. Oh, he knew she meant it as a compliment, an indication of how much she trusted and relied on him, but he heard in it the slow dying of his hopes. Looking at the beautiful girl in the next room, it suddenly hit him that he was in danger of making all the same mistakes he had made the first time around—hanging back, silencing his feelings, waiting for everything to magically work itself out while life went on around him and a braver, surer man stepped forward to take hold of the future he longed for.

_Not this time,_ he thought to himself. _I have plans for you, Geum Jan-di-ssi._

Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, Jan-di looked up and caught his eye. Whatever she saw there caused her to lose her train of thought mid-sentence, a puzzled expression wrinkling her forehead.

* * *

It's said that the success of a child's birthday party can be judged by the exhaustion of the guest of honor at the end of the day. If that was true, then Hee-jin's fifth birthday celebration was a runaway triumph. After two slices of cake, an impromptu dance off, a small mountain of presents, a game of follow-the-leader, and a viewing of The Little Mermaid, the birthday girl was discovered fast asleep underneath the dining room table, her new Lalaloopsy mermaid doll, a gift from Ji-hoo's grandfather, clutched tightly in her grip.

With a practiced motion, Jan-di scooped Hee-jin up to carry her up the stairs to her bedroom. The adult guests were enchanted when she woke up just enough to look over her mother's shoulder and give a sleepy wave, accompanied by a sweet "kamsahamnida!" in her childish sing-song voice.

Hee-jin's best friend, So Ma-ru, was made of a little tougher stuff, but even so, he had climbed up into his father's lap during the movie and showed no signs of moving now that it was over. He would have preferred to be held by his mother, but Ga-eul's lap had all but disappeared under the swell of her pregnant belly. Baby number two was only weeks away from making his appearance, and Ma-ru was none too sure about the prospect of sharing his appa and umma—not to mention his toys—with the new arrival. Ga-eul had been alarmed when Ma-ru had greeted the news of his baby brother's impending appearance with a barrage of tears and an angry insistence that it sure couldn't sleep in _his_ room.

It was his adored noona Hee-jin who had finally softened Ma-ru on the subject. On their first playdate together after Jan-di had told her the news about Ga-eul's pregnancy, Hee-jin had insisted on bringing her stuffed pig Jojo to the So house as a gift for the baby. She had been so excited and so rapturous on the subject of babies in general that Ma-ru had ended the day feeling that perhaps a tiny little brother of his own to play with and teach things to would not be so bad after all. Hee-jin thought so, and to Ma-ru, Hee-jin's opinions were indisputable.

Jun-pyo's mother and father had also been able to come to the party. Despite the slightly chilly nature of their interactions at present, Jan-di was grateful to see them. Their genuine love for their sweet-spirited granddaughter was clear, and it was nice to see the uncharacteristic softness on Madame Kang's face when Hee-jin had run joyfully into her arms as they arrived. In many ways, her mother-in-law was still largely a mystery to Jan-di, but now that she was a mother herself, she understood the fierce protectiveness that filled a mother's heart, no matter how misguided its application might be at times. Now, as Jan-di returned from tucking Hee-jin into bed, they rose to leave, thanking her smoothly for including them in the celebration.

Jan-di bowed deeply to them both, and then walked them to the door. "Thank you for coming. Having you here made Hee-jin's day so special."

She saw Madame Kang's lips twitch in an almost-smile as she and her husband turned and left.

Jan-di's parents left shortly after that; they had preparation to do for tomorrow's meeting with a potential business partner. They were ready to expand their dry-cleaning business to a second location, and had been looking for a dependable junior to run it. Na Gong-joo had been taking night classes to learn more about the process of incorporation, and the fatigue of working and going to school at the same time was starting to show. Even so, it was all Jan-di could do to convince her mom that she didn't need to stay and help clean up the party. Finally, Ji-hoo stepped in and asked if they would mind taking Grandfather home on their way, since he was ready to go and Ji-hoo planned to stay a little longer. Jan-di's mother capitulated, and they all departed tired and happy.

With the older generation gone, the mood in the room grew more relaxed and informal. Laying the now sleeping Ma-ru against the sofa pillows, Yi-jung helped Ga-eul to her feet. Everyone stretched and moved over to stand around the high counter separating the living room from the kitchen.

Ji-hoo went to the refrigerator for bottles of soju and then opened the cupboard and handed around glasses. His casual familiarity with the contents of Jan-di's kitchen did not go unnoticed by Woo-bin, who raised his eyebrows and shared a significant look with Yi-jung.

"Oops! Sorry, Ga-eul-ssi! I guess you're not drinking." Ji-hoo took back the shot glass and pulled a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator, setting it before Ga-eul with a flourish.

_He's in a good mood,_ Ga-eul thought. _Did something happen? _She sneaked a surreptitious look at Jan-di, but her friend was occupied gathering up dirty cake plates.

Ji-hoo poured shots all around, and the conversation started to flow more freely as they all caught up with each other's busy lives. Woo-bin entertained them with hair-raising stories of the blind dates his father had been setting up for him lately. "Do you know what the daughters of mafia dons usually look like?" he asked with a shudder, causing a ripple of laughter.

Ga-eul happily bragged about one of Yi-jung's sculptures being accepted for installation at the National Gallery in London. This required another toast, and before they knew it, everyone except Ga-eul was comfortably tipsy.

Surprisingly, it was the usually reserved Ji-hoo who suggested dancing. He shuffled through Jan-di's CD collection and selected one, an album of American jazz. Jan-di and Ga-eul took turns partnering with Woo-bin and Ji-hoo, but Yi-jung sweetly insisted on dancing only with his own wife, keeping a close eye on her for signs that she was overdoing it.

Dancing with Woo-bin had Jan-di almost doubled with laughter as he imitated the moves of various entertainers, including Elvis' famous pelvic thrusts and Michael Jackson's moonwalk. He clearly enjoyed having an appreciative audience. As the song's last verse started, though, he looked down at Jan-di with a strangely tender expression. "So, how are you really doing, kid?"

She smiled up at him, touched by the sincerity of his question. "I'm okay," she said. "Some days are hard, but I have a beautiful daughter... and the sworn friendship of some of Korea's most handsome and powerful men." She winked at him, and he grinned, smoothing a hand over his hair in mock vanity.

The next song was a slow one. Before Jan-di had time to catch her breath, Ji-hoo had captured her hand and spun her effortlessly into his arms. Her residual laughter dried up as his right arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer. She could feel his breath on her neck, and gave an involuntary shiver. What was this? Her confusion didn't abate as they rocked slowly back and forth through the chorus of the song. Ji-hoo ended by dipping Jan-di almost to the floor, a move that was met by applause from everyone else. Fortunately, as Ji-hoo returned her to a standing position, Jan-di's back was turned to Yi-jung, so she didn't see the amused smirk he wore.

They kept going, dancing through almost the entire album before Ga-eul collapsed happily into an overstuffed chair, rubbing her aching feet.

"I think that's my cue, guys," joked Yi-jung. He gently helped Ga-eul into her coat before turning to gather up the miraculously still sleeping five year old boy from the sofa.

"Yo, I think I had better head out, too," said Woo-bin. "But let's make sure to do this again soon. Nobody gets my jokes like you guys." He punched Ji-hoo on the arm and followed Yi-jung and Ga-eul to the door.

Ga-eul hugged Jan-di. "Call me tomorrow, okay? I need to get out of the house before I drive Yi-jung crazy with all my nesting!"

Behind her back, Yi-jung nodded agreement, his eyes wide.

Jan-di giggled.

Ji-hoo closed the door behind them as they left. "I'll stay to help with clean up." It wasn't a question, and Jan-di was too tired and too thankful to object.

Together, they washed the dishes, bumping into each other amiably as they stood side by side at the wide sink. After that, they undecorated the apartment, Ji-hoo pulling down the streamers while Jan-di collected and deflated the balloons. She gathered up Hee-jin's gifts and quietly carried them up the stairs into the little girl's room.

When she returned, Ji-hoo was standing in the entryway and pulling on his coat, preparing to head home.

His scarf had fallen to the floor. Jan-di bent to scoop it up and handed it to him with a smile. "How can I thank you for all your help today, sunbae? I never could have gotten it all done without you. Thanks for rescuing me… again." She chuckled ruefully.

"It's not a problem. A good firefighter is always ready to respond." He sketched a mock salute and took a step toward the door. Pausing midway through reaching for the doorknob, Ji-hoo seemed to consider something for a moment before turning around to face Jan-di again.

"Just one more thing," he added, and before she could ask what it was, he closed the short distance between them in one step, grasped her by the upper arms, and leaned in to press his warm lips hungrily against hers.

For a moment she couldn't react. Was this really happening? Ji-hoo's lips parted slightly, inviting hers to do the same. Heat swept through her, burning away her ability to think. Almost involuntarily, her eyes closed, and before she realized it, her mouth was moving in sync with his, eager and yielding.

When he felt her respond to him, Ji-hoo's heart leaped. He deepened the kiss, pinning her to the wall with his body, his arm sliding around her waist for the second time that night. With his other hand, he reached up to bury his fingers in her hair, his hand behind her head drawing her closer, closer.

Jan-di's mind was whirling. Her world had become blurry, nothing in focus except the warm softness of Ji-hoo's lips moving insistently over hers, his tongue gently exploring her mouth. He took his time, kissing her slowly and thoroughly. A hunger she hadn't felt in a long time roared to life deep within her. Her hands were pressed against his chest, and without realizing it, she was clutching handfuls of his shirt.

It took all of Ji-hoo's willpower to end the kiss. Grasping her shoulders firmly, he took a step back, maintaining eye contact as they both fought to catch their breath. Finally, he reached a tender hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb drawing a tantalizing line along her jaw. Bending down, he brought his face close to hers to make sure he had her full attention.

"I am **not** your brother," he said firmly.

And then he was gone.

…


	10. Chapter 10

…

…

For long minutes after the door closed behind Ji-hoo, Jan-di stood rooted to the spot, leaning against the wall for support. _Did that really just happen?_ The dreamlike memory of Ji-hoo's searing kiss played through her mind on a loop. She brushed her fingertips against her lips in wonder, and blushed as she remembered how enthusiastically she had reciprocated.

"Aish!" What had come over her? She didn't think of Ji-hoo sunbae that way… did she? There was nothing like _that _between them… was there? The warmth curling through her body right now certainly didn't feel like nothing. She blushed again as her mind flashed back to the way she had gripped his shirt in her fists, pulling him closer as if—

"No," she said aloud, stopping the stream of thoughts and images before they could overwhelm her. The effects of the alcohol were clouding her brain, and she was too exhausted to think anymore tonight. She would deal with all this in the morning, when she was more clearheaded. Yes, that's what she would do. It would all make more sense in the morning.

So thinking, she stumbled up the stairs to her room, stripped off her party clothes, and managed to get her nightgown over her head before she collapsed on her pillow, already half asleep.

Her dreams were interesting that night.

* * *

For Ji-hoo's part, he managed to make it down Jan-di's hallway and into the elevator before giving in to a triumphant fist pump. "Yes!" he exulted, casting off his cool façade to indulge in a little schoolboy celebration. Jan-di's neighbor, an elderly woman who had walked up to use the elevator, took one look at the crazy grin on Jihoo's face and wisely chose to wait for the next one. The doors closed.

"She kissed me back," he said wonderingly, still unable to believe the way she had unexpectedly melted at his touch, the way her lips had met his and answered with equal passion. It was better than he had dared to imagine. He had wanted so much to stay, to carry her to the overstuffed couch, pull her close, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. But he knew that charging the beachhead like that wouldn't win this war. It might even backfire, causing her to put up walls that weren't there before.

No, this campaign called for strategy and patience. Fortunately for Yoon Ji-hoo, honorary firefighter, he knew a thing or two about patience.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and sunshiny, the glare filling the bedroom and causing Jan-di to wish she had remembered to close her blinds the night before. She wasn't hung over, exactly—she hadn't drunk enough for that—but she definitely had a headache. Sitting up in bed, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. That's when the memory of the previous night slammed back into her like a freight train. She grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, kicking her legs and squealing like a child at the thought of facing Ji-hoo sunbae at work this morning. What would she say to him? And what would _he_ say?

A little voice in Jan-di's head asked the most frightening question of all: what did she _want_ him to say?

Her alarm clock went off, reminding her that she needed to hurry and get Hee-jin to preschool if she wanted to be on time for work. Leaving all of her questions unanswered, she vaulted off the bed and into Hee-jin's room to wake her up.

* * *

When Jan-di arrived at the clinic, she was relieved to find that Ji-hoo was already closed in his office with a patient. She greeted the two families in the waiting room, taking down their information and getting them something to drink before seeing in the first patient, a young girl with a case of strep throat. Jan-di led the nervous girl and her equally nervous mother into her office, smiling and chatting to put them at ease.

They left fifteen minutes later with a prescription for antibiotics and the address of a job placement agency for the mother, who had opened up to Jan-di about her unsuccessful search for work and her worry over the bills. Before going out the door, she turned and hugged the young doctor. "Thank you."

With a smile, Jan-di called the next patient.

And so the day went. Jan-di enjoyed what she did immensely. Not just the healing of the body with medicine, but the feeding of the battered soul with those nutrients that were often in short supply in the world at large: compassion, empathy, patience, and caring. Jan-di liked to think that the people she helped in the clinic went out into their lives and fed others in the same way. She saw fewer patients in a day than most other doctors, but the patients never complained about the wait. Instead, they lined up to see her. Maybe they couldn't put it into words, but many of them desperately needed what she gave them so freely: the warmth of human connection.

Ji-hoo, too, was busy all day, although he did manage to catch glimpses of Jan-di on her way to or from the waiting room. He laughed when he saw her giving a wild piggy back ride to a giggling three year old boy who, only a moment before, had been crying his eyes out in fear of the doctor. She zoomed around the clinic, neighing and jumping, until the small patient was hiccupping with laughter. Ji-hoo was dazzled by her, as always. With everything that had happened to her, how could she still have so much left to give other people? The more she poured herself out, the kinder and stronger she seemed to grow. Ji-hoo admired her warm vitality more now than ever.

…

Lunchtime came and went, but Jan-di was preoccupied by her patients. With Dr. Park on vacation, she and Ji-hoo sunbae had been putting in some long days. She didn't realize how hungry she was until well after two, when her empty stomach gave a loud gurgle right in the middle of a consultation. She swiftly finished stitching up the laceration on her middle aged patient's head, gave him some advice ("Maybe you should check how big the guy is before you insult his mother next time, ok?"), and grabbed her purse, ready to head out the door in search of food. Before she could exit her office, Ji-hoo was there in the doorway, holding a bag from the jjajangmyeon shop down the street and smiling at her in his lopsided way.

Her heart gave a not-unpleasant thump.

"I could hear your stomach growling through the wall," he teased with a grin.

She sat down awkwardly in a chair and watched him pull containers out of the bag, setting them out on her desk and arranging the chopsticks on top of the napkins. He wasn't looking at her, so she took advantage of his distraction to study him. Unlike Jan-di, he didn't look agitated at all. She wondered if he was going to bring up what had happened last night, and desperately tried to think of what she would say in return. Maybe she should start the conversation.

"Uh…sunbae…"

"Here," Ji-hoo said, handing her an open can of apple juice. "Eat first. Talk later." He pulled up the other chair in the room and sat down across from her. Before she could open her mouth, he had pulled the lids off the side dishes and scooped some sweet radish into her bowl. When she showed signs of protesting, he snatched up a piece of pork with his chopsticks and stuffed it into her open mouth.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Finally, with the sauce still dripping down her chin, she burst into laughter, and Ji-hoo joined her. The tension was broken.

They ate lunch in companionable silence, cutting it short in consideration of the larger-than-normal crowd of patients still waiting to be seen today. When Jan-di rose to clear up the lunch containers, Ji-hoo handed her another can of juice instead, and moved to gather the trash himself. With a casual "Time to get back to work!" tossed over his shoulder, he swept out of her office as unceremoniously as he had appeared.

Jan-di, shaking her head, consulted the patient list and called in the next person waiting in line. For the rest of the afternoon, her day was a blur of people, symptoms, and paperwork. There was no time left for asking herself hard questions, and that was just the way she liked it.

* * *

It was almost 7:00 when Jan-di ushered the last patient, an old ajhumma with arthritis, to the door. Looking over, she saw that Ji-hoo's office was already dark.

_Hmph… he didn't even tell me he was leaving,_ she thought with an uncharacteristic stab of irritation. _I guess he doesn't have anything to say to me after all. That's fine. It's not like I was waiting around for him._

She was still muttering under her breath when she pushed her way through the clinic's outer door to find Ji-hoo waiting for her at the curb, sitting lazily astride his motorcycle with his spare helmet in his hands. He held it out to her without a word.

She paused in surprise. Since he chose not to speak, she didn't either. Her hand brushed against his as she took the helmet from him, and a frisson of electricity seemed to travel up her arm. She pulled the tightly-fitted helmet over her head and mounted the bike behind Ji-hoo with one practiced motion. He started the engine, but didn't take off right away. Instead, he reached around behind him and grasped Jan-di's wrists, pulling her arms securely around his waist.

She was suddenly very aware of how closely she was pressed up against his broad, warm back. She didn't have long to think about it, though, before Ji-hoo was accelerating wildly out of the parking lot, forcing her to tighten her grip even more to keep from falling off. Unseen by Jan-di, he was smirking with satisfaction.

…

The evening air was cool, and the lights of Seoul were just coming on as they rode out of the city and toward the place where the sun had just set below the horizon. Jan-di was glad for her down-lined jacket and the shelter of Ji-hoo's body, which kept most of the wind off. When it had become clear that they were not heading back to Jan-di's apartment, her curiosity had been piqued. Was he planning on driving all the way to the ocean? She wasn't worried about Hee-jin; she had been picked up from preschool today by her grandparents. She was spending the night with them so that Jan-di's father could take her fishing for the first time tomorrow. But Jan-di did wonder where they were going. Now that she was alone with sunbae, her mind flew back to last night's kiss like a moth to a light. Her nervousness increased. She wished he would explain what was happening.

As if sensing the rising tide of her emotions, Ji-hoo reached down and squeezed Jan-di's hand reassuringly. It did calm her. She let her ramrod stiff body relax against him a little and tried to quiet the storm in her mind by watching the houses go by. Idly, she wondered about all the people who lived inside them. What passions and dramas played themselves out behind the curtains? What loves and fears drove them? Was everyone's life as wonderful and terrifying as hers? She was still thinking about it when the bike slowed and Ji-hoo pulled off the main road onto a dirt path that wound over a tree-covered hill. They followed the curves of the path for over half a mile while the daylight grew dimmer around them. Finally, they broke through onto a wide, grassy bluff that ended in a steep cliff.

Ji-hoo braked to a stop and cut the engine. He held the bike steady as Jan-di slid to the ground, then put down the kickstand and dismounted. He pulled off his helmet, setting it on the seat, before turning to help Jan-di remove hers.

She held her breath as he unfastened the straps, then gently hooked his fingers under the edge of the helmet and pulled up on it until she was free. The breeze felt delicious as it lifted the hair off her neck.

Ji-hoo set her helmet next to his, and then reached down to take her hand. When she looked up at him questioningly, he just smiled and drew her across the grass until they were standing next to each other a few feet from the edge of the cliff.

Looking down, she saw a small town spread out on the rolling hills below them. It was bordered on one side by a wide stream and on the other by the long road that came from the north and passed beside the little settlement before disappearing into a cleft between two hills to the south. From here, she could make out a church, a short street bordered by shops on both sides, and dozens of houses. The quilt-like patches of farms could be seen scattered around outside the boundaries of the small community. The population of the town was perhaps 600 people, all told. As Ji-hoo and Jan-di stood watching, lights were coming on inside the houses, one after the other.

"I found this place just a few weeks after Jun-pyo died," Ji-hoo said without turning his head.

This wasn't what Jan-di was expecting. Her brow furrowed, but she kept listening.

"I was… not doing well. I couldn't stop thinking—all the memories. Childhood. Jokes we shared. Fights we had. Watching him change when he met you. It just seemed so wrong, that I was here and he wasn't. I… wanted to be there for you and Hee-jin, but I didn't know how. You were still hurting so much." He sighed deeply, remembering.

Jan-di held tightly to his hand, silently encouraging him to go on.

Ji-hoo raised his eyes to the village in the valley. "I was just out riding around when I found this road, and this view. I stood here for hours, watching the people moving through the streets, seeing the windows light up one by one. I tried to imagine all of them down there, mothers and teachers and shopkeepers and children, living their lives."

Jan-di was struck, not for the first time, by the sense that Ji-hoo sunbae could somehow read her mind.

"I could almost see them, living and working and laughing and losing the people that they love—just like I lost my parents. Just like you lost Jun-pyo." He paused again, glancing over at her to try to measure her reaction.

Her eyes were still trained on the valley below.

Ji-hoo's voice was quieter as he continued. "Looking on from the distance, it was as if I was seeing from a new perspective. The people down there had their own worries and losses and heartaches, but all I saw when I looked down from this hill was life." He smiled. "Relentless, stubborn, noisy life. For the first time, I saw clearly what I couldn't see when I was wrapped up in my own loss: that life, whatever else it does, goes on." He took a breath, as if he had more to add, but then he didn't. Instead, he drew Jan-di over to stand in front of him so they were both looking down into the quiet night streets of the town. Pulling her closer, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

They stood that way for a long time, until the light fled from the sky and the settlement below looked like a constellation of fiery stars suspended in space. The air was now noticeably chilly. Jan-di gave an involuntary shiver.

Ji-hoo, realizing that it was growing late and cold, slowly turned Jan-di around to face him. He had one more thing to say.

She looked up into his face, slightly illuminated in the pale light cast by the crescent moon, and wondered if he was going to kiss her again. With a shock, she realized that she wanted him to.

With gentle fingers under her chin, he tilted her face up. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips to her hair, as if he was memorizing her. He smoothed a lock of hair back behind her ear and leaned closer. His voice, when it came, was almost a whisper.

"I think you know that when I kissed you last night, it wasn't just an impulse." A small smile twitched his mouth up at the corners. "I've been wanting to do that for a very long time, Jan-di-ah."

His voice was like a caress. She felt the blush creeping up her neck, and was glad for the obscuring darkness.

Ji-hoo gathered his courage. "There are… things… I want to ask you. I've never wanted anything more. But I need to know your heart first. I need to know if _you_ are ready. I need to know if you think you can… move on."

His eyes now were troubled. She could read the doubts there, and they pricked at her heart. She opened her mouth as if she would say something, but before she could, he gently touched her lips with one finger, stopping her words.

"Don't rush to answer, Jan-di. The human heart is a complicated thing, and there is no schedule for grief, no map for love after loss. Take time, as much as you need. Know yourself. I promise that I will be your friend for your whole life, no matter what else happens between us."

Here he stroked the back of his fingers lightly against her neck before sliding them down her arms and grasping her small hands in his large, warm ones. "But you need to make sure of your heart, my friend, because when you come to me—_if_ you come to me…" His eyes held hers captive. "… I want all of you."

…

…

…

* * *

_***Thank you to all of you who have been reading and leaving reviews! I really appreciate all of the feedback. I especially want to thank Tiamatnerwen and Taylor Lee D for their encouragement! Only a few more chapters left, I think. I'm leaving for a week long trip to Nicaragua Monday, so the next chapter might be a little delayed. Thanks for your patience!***_


	11. Chapter 11

…

…

Jan-di spent the ride back to Seoul lost in thought. Her head was whirling with the memory of Ji-hoo's words. Move on? Love again? She hadn't even given it a thought until… until Ji-hoo had pulled her into his arms last night and woken her up. She didn't know what she thought now; everything was happening so fast. Before she knew it, they had pulled up in front of her building. Ji-hoo parked the bike and secured the helmets, then pulled Jan-di's bag out of the storage compartment and handed it to her. She glanced up at him nervously.

"Do you want me to walk you up?" Ji-hoo asked.

Jan-di shook her head. "No, sunbae. It's okay. I'll… see you tomorrow." She hiked her bag up to her shoulder and turned to walk in, missing Ji-hoo's slightly disappointed look. He rallied quickly, however, watching with a small smile as Jan-di disappeared behind the great glass doors. When she was gone, he pulled on his helmet and started his bike.

Ji-hoo drove home the long way, letting the cool night air wash over him. His emotions were a strange mixture of angst and anticipation. He had told Jan-di the truth. He would wait for her as long as it took. He would be there whenever she needed him. The one thing he wouldn't do was sit back in silence while this woman slipped away from him for the second time. When he thought of that happening, it gave him courage to be bold. He had spoken what was in his heart. Whatever she decided, Geum Jan-di would know one thing without a doubt: that Yoon Ji-hoo loved her. He turned his bike toward home.

…

Jan-di showed up at the clinic the next day expecting it to be awkward, but Ji-hoo was as good as his word. Maybe a little too good. His friendly, casual manner toward her was the same as it had always been, and if she hadn't already carved last night's confession on her memory over a long, sleepless night of replaying it in her head, she might have been convinced by his demeanor that it hadn't happened at all.

As she moved around the small clinic, examining patients, filing paperwork, and preparing meds, she found herself sneaking glances at her sunbae. He didn't seem to be watching her or, in fact, taking much notice of her at all. To her discomfort, it bothered her a little. She had thought, after last night… well, nevermind what she had thought. Ji-hoo was clearly giving her the time he had promised. By late afternoon, she was spending more time thinking about him than about her cases. Fortunately, the flow of patients had slowed to a trickle, so her distraction went largely unnoticed. Noticing that Ji-hoo's office door was open, Jan-di ducked behind a screen and observed from across the room as he administered an injection to a girl of eleven. His dark hair—he had let the blonde grow out a few years ago—was hanging in his eyes, and he swiped it back off his forehead with one deft motion. It was a surprisingly boyish gesture, and Jan-di smiled despite herself. As his attention was on his patient, she took the opportunity to study his profile. His eyebrows were drawn down in concentration, and his hands were deft and confident as he prepared the needle and positioned it over her arm. Jan-di could just barely hear the low murmur of his voice reassuring the girl, who seemed nervous. The strong, square line of his jaw added masculinity to his otherwise sensitive features, and she glimpsed a flash of his straight, white teeth as he bestowed one of his warm smiles on the girl's mother. His mouth captured Jan-di's attention, and the remembered sensation of his lips on hers swept through her memory before she could drag her thoughts back to the present.

Just then, Ji-hoo looked up and caught her gaze, his eyes still crinkled in a smile. She flushed pink, as if the direction of her thoughts was written on her face for him to read. Whirling around, she fled into her own office and closed the door.

…

As sunset's light played over the clinic windows, Ji-hoo pulled on his riding jacket and prepared to go home. He glanced at Jan-di's door, still closed, and debated knocking to ask if she needed a ride. The day had been more difficult for him than he had foreseen; his desire to be close to her, to hear her voice, had warred with his determination to be patient in the waiting. He knew that these things took time, and he had been prepared to give it to her, but in all his dreams of finally holding Jan-di's heart, he hadn't anticipated wanting her so much. He rubbed a hand over his face in amused frustration. The small tastes of her physical touch had only whet his appetite for more, and it was all he could do to keep his mind focused on his work when all he wanted was to take her hand in his, or pull her into his arms, or close them both behind her office door and convince her of the certainty that pounded through him with every pulse—that their time had come at last.

He left without knocking.

…

A week passed, and then three. Jan-di's troubled mind was soothed by the routines of home and work. She cared for Hee Jin, visited her family, and spent lunch hours in friendly conversation with Ji-hoo, who seemed as warm and open as ever. She couldn't deny that she had begun to be aware of certain… changes in the way she looked at him, but she had also realized that his friendship meant more to her than she had known. The thought of risking what they had on the gamble of romance brought a cold lump of fear to her throat. What would she do without Yoon Ji-hoo in her life? So she stalled. And she waited. And she tried to tamp down the fire that had started slowly smoldering deep within her, reminding her of possibilities she had thought were gone forever.

…

Ji-hoo buried his head in his hands and gave a wordless groan of frustration. He was sitting on the sofa at Yi-jung's house, three shots into a soju bottle, pouring out his worries to his old friend.

"You told her what?" Yi-jung asked.

"I told her to take as much time as she needed," Ji-hoo repeated in a voice muffled by his hands. He lifted his head. "And I meant it, too. I just… hoped it wouldn't be quite this long." He looked around for his glass and poured himself another drink.

Yi-jung sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, I'm probably not the best person to ask about women. I did pretty much everything wrong until Ga-eul came along." He chuckled. "Actually, I screwed that up, too. I'm just lucky she's a patient teacher."

Ga-eul came back from the kitchen with a tray of cut fruit. "Well, you turned out to be a good student in the end," she said with an affectionate smile, bending to kiss Yi-jung's cheek before setting the tray down on a low table. Sitting down beside him, she turned to Ji-hoo and patted his arm comfortingly.

"I've known Jan-di since primary school," she assured him. "I know how she feels about you, even if it's taking her a long time to name that feeling to herself." She picked up a chunk of apple and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. In a moment, she went on. "Despite her fiery spirit, Jan-di is slow to change, slow to understand herself."

Ji-hoo nodded his head, the look of angst on his face replaced by one of reflection.

"If you think about it," Ga-eul continued, "her decision to attend Shinhwa, her relationship with Jun-pyo, every big change in her life has been shaped by Jan-di's reaction to outside forces. It's not that she doesn't make decisions for herself. It's more like she needs… a little push…" Ga-eul's voice trailed off as her eyes lit up with sudden revelation.

Yi-jung grinned. "Unless I miss my guess, my lovely wife just had an idea."

…

Later that week, Ga-eul was sitting on Jan-di's bed, waiting for her to come out of her bathroom. She tapped her fingers on the coverlet impatiently. "Hurry up!" she called loudly enough to be heard through the door. "You know that if we're late to the concert, they won't let us in until intermission!"

Jan-di swept out of the bathroom, still fastening a sapphire earring into her ear. Ga-eul looked her up and down before nodding approvingly. The navy blue sleeveless dress she wore was simple but elegant, tailored to skim Jan-di's gentle curves flatteringly. Ga-eul had made her buy it last year on a joint shopping trip after noticing that Jan-di had bought something for everyone except herself. Despite the financial security she had enjoyed since marrying Jun-pyo, she had never been comfortable spending money on herself. Seeing her in this dress, Ga-eul was glad that she had made an exception.

Jan-di warmed at her friend's appreciation. She threw a gauzy sweater over her shoulders and picked up her purse, and then the two of them joined Yi-jung in the living room, where he waited to drive them to the concert hall. Ji-hoo was going to be playing his violin as part of the program, and they had all promised to be there to support him. Jandi checked her purse for the tickets Ji-hoo had given her and smiled to see his name listed prominently in the concert title.

Jan-di remembered the first time she had heard Ji-hoo play. His eyes closed, his face serene, he had made the instrument speak almost as if it was using words. The music had brought her to a halt on the wooded path, struck to the heart by the beauty of it. She had heard rather than seen his isolation and the undercurrent of sadness that ran through him. That was probably the moment she had first been drawn to him—partly by attraction and partly by the desire to somehow pour warmth back into those sad, dark eyes. Little did she know that he would be the one pouring into her as life tossed her around and twisted her in knots. She didn't know what would have become of her without sunbae's gentle hands always pulling her pieces back together, turning her face to the sun.

Jan-di realized that Yi-jung and Ga-eul were looking at her, puzzled at her glazed expression. She shook her head, tucking away the memories.

Hee-jin came running in from her room, trailed by her slightly frazzled grandmother and an adoring Ma-ru. She threw herself into Jan-di's outstretched arms, hugging her with the wild abandon of a five year old before pulling her head back to take a long look at her dressed-up mother. "You look pretty, Umma," she said decisively. "When I grow up, can I wear that dress?"

Jan-di laughed and pulled her in for another hug. "Of course you can, Hee-jin-a." She set her down. "Now, don't wear your grandmother out, and be a good hostess for Ma-ru. That means sharing your toys, got it?"

Hee-jin sighed at the reminder, but agreed. "I wish I could go with you to hear sunbae play his violin," she said wheedlingly.

"You can when you're older," Jan-di promised. "When you've outgrown the fidgets!" She tickled Hee-jin until the little girl was giggling and breathless.

"Now go with your grandmother; she's cooking you something yummy for dinner." She hugged Hee-jin once more and followed Ga-eul and Yi-jung out of the apartment.

…

Despite Ga-eul's fears that they would be late, they arrived at the hall with nearly ten minutes to spare before the concert. Weaving gently through the crowd, they found their seats near the front of the auditorium and sat down. Ga-eul and Jan-di were chatting quietly when a delighted squeal sounded from the end of their row.

"Chu Ga-eul-ssi! Is that you?" A beautifully curvy girl with wide, dark eyes and glowing skin was making her way down the row, finally coming to a stop at the seat right next to Jan-di's. She reached out to take Ga-eul's hand. "Do you remember me?"

Ga-eul looked blank for a moment, and then recognition flooded her face. "Choi Yun-jee?" she asked.

"Yes!" Yun-jee confirmed, and the two girls hugged before Ga-eul turned to introduce her to Yi-jung and Jan-di.

"Yun-jee and I met when she came to guest lecture at the art institute," Ga-eul explained. "She studied in America and pioneered an exciting new technique for layering glazes that results in the most beautiful webbed patina in the finish. It's quite lovely."

Yun-jee bowed modestly. Yi-jung's eyes lit up with professional interest, but Jan-di just nodded politely.

"Anyway," Ga-eul finished, "we hit it off right away, and Yun-jee agreed to come teach a variation of the technique to my teen class. It was a great success."

The three girls shared a few moments of conversation before the lights flickered, indicating that the concert was about to begin. Yun-jee took the seat next to Jan-di.

Soon Jan-di was lost in the music. A bearded man playing the piano opened with a delicate rendition of Benjamin Godard's _Au Matin_. He was followed by a string quartet performing Stravinski. The light and whimsical notes seemed to be dancing in the air above their heads, as if carried by a cheerful breeze. Jan-di felt herself relaxing.

Finally, after a tall woman with a cello had finished a masterful rendering of the Bach cello suites, the lights dimmed, a spotlight came up, and Ji-hoo walked out onto the stage, his violin tucked under his arm.

Jan-di heard a soft gasp beside her. Yun-jee leaned forward in her seat and whispered across Jan-di to Ga-eul. "Who is _that_? He's gorgeous!"

Jan-di felt an unreasonable burst of irritation.

Ga-eul smiled and whispered back, "That's our friend, Yoon Ji-hoo. You'd like him. He loves music and art."

Looking up at Ji-hoo sunbae as he lifted his violin to his shoulder, Jan-di had to admit that Yun-jee had a point. Ji-hoo was wearing a deep blue shirt under a well-cut grey suit that showed off his broad shoulders. His eyes were closed as he played, and his long, well-formed fingers moved with a confident grace over the instrument. The memory of those fingers brushing against her neck momentarily diverted her from her assessment. She shivered. No matter how you looked at it, Ji-hoo was a handsome man.

Jan-di cast a sidelong glance at Jun-hee. She was looking up at the stage with a rapt expression on her face. Jan-di scowled.

…

After the concert ended, the four of them waited backstage to see Ji-hoo. After a few minutes, he emerged with his violin case in hand and his jacket tossed over his arm. His friends surrounded him.

"You played wonderfully, as always," said Yi-jung with a friendly slap on the shoulder. Ji-hoo grinned back, then noticed Jun-hee standing next to Ga-eul.

"Is this a friend of yours, Ga-eul-ssi?" he asked.

Ga-eul confirmed it, and hastened to introduce the two of them. Jun-hee looked up at him charmingly as she complimented his performance.

Jan-di looked on, unaccountably discomfited by this exchange. When Yi-jung suggested they all go out for drinks, she was chagrined to note Jun-hee's enthusiastic nod of agreement.

They ended up at a small bar down the street from the performing arts center. The proprietor was an old friend of the F4, and he set them up at a table in the back, telling the waiter to give them whatever they wished. Yi-jung thanked him, and poured out the first round before raising his hand in a toast to "one last night out before the newborn craziness starts again!" Everyone laughed, especially Jan-di, whose memories of Hee-jin's colicky newborn days still seemed fresh in her mind despite the years that had passed.

Ga-eul joined in with her glass of apple juice and rolled her eyes fondly at Yi-jung. "I don't know what you're going on about, yobo. As I recall, your ability to sleep through almost anything includes the crying of newborn children." He faked an injured look, and she winked at him.

As the night went on, the collection of empty bottles at their table grew. Talk got louder and freer, and when Yi-jung remarked that he wished Woo-bin and Jun-pyo could have been there to make the gang complete, Jan-di felt a bittersweet twinge as she agreed with him. Woo-bin had left for Japan the previous day; his father was training him to take the reins of the family's business affairs in Tokyo. But the hole he left was temporary. All of them felt the loss of Jun-pyo when they were together and probably always would. Still, Jan-di was surprised to find that thinking of him had become less painful and more sweet as time went by. She supposed that was what people meant by the expression "time heals all wounds". Time didn't erase the injury, but it eased the pain, somehow, and taught you to live with the scars.

Jan-di noticed that Ga-eul was beginning to droop, and was about to say something when Yi-jung beat her to the punch.

"Come on, jagiya," he said, "we should get you home to rest." Ga-eul nodded gratefully and let Yi-jung pull her to her feet.

"I'll go with you," Jan-di said, hunting around for her purse. She looked down the length of the table to see Ji-hoo and Jun-hee deep in conversation. Her stomach did an unpleasant flip.

Yi-jung tossed a bottlecap at Ji-hoo to get his attention. To Jan-di, it looked as if he pulled his attention away from Jun-hee with great effort.

"We're taking off," Yi-jung said. "Do you want us to drop you at home?"

Ji-hoo glanced at Jun-hee, who smiled, and said, "That's okay. We're kind of in the middle of something. We'll catch a cab later." He dismissed them with a wave and turned back to Jun-hee.

Jan-di's stomach felt sour as she followed Ga-eul out to the car. _I shouldn't have drunk so much,_ she told herself. But on the ride home, all she could think about was Yoon Ji-hoo.

…

Ji-hoo called the clinic the next morning to say he was taking a day off. Jan-di was surprised. He had never spontaneously taken a day off in all the time since he'd returned from Colombia. _What could he be doing?_ she wondered. A tiny suspicion niggled at her mind, but she didn't put words to it. Instead, she took a deep breath and called her next patient.

At lunchtime, Jan-di took advantage of the break to run several streets over and get some takeout. As she neared the café where she and Ji-hoo often bought lunch, she glanced up at the front window and nearly stumbled. Seated at a table right in the front, Ji-hoo and Jun-hee were sharing a plate of galbi. Jun-hee was talking animatedly, and Ji-hoo was listening intently, interest painted on his face. As Jan-di watched, Jun-hee placed several pieces of beef on top of Ji-hoo's rice bowl, earning a smile.

Jan-di blanched. A feeling bloomed in her chest that was sickeningly familiar. She had felt it when Jun-pyo's engagement to Jae-kyung was announced, and again when he had warmed up to the duplicitous Yu-mi after losing his memory. After the "happily ever after", she had thought never to feel it again. She knew exactly what this was, and the meaning of it nearly knocked the breath out of her. Geum Jan-di was jealous.

Suddenly afraid of being seen, she hurried away.

…

In the café, Ji-hoo caught Jan-di's flight out of the corner of his eye and sighed. He was starting to have doubts about Ga-eul's brilliant plan. What if it didn't work, and he pushed Jan-di even further away from him? He looked back up at Jun-hee. "Thank you again for doing this. I know it must seem a little ridiculous to be playing games like this at our age." He grimaced with embarrassment.

Jun-hee laughed. "It's okay. Ga-eul told me Jan-di was a bit of a tough case. And me? I'm a romantic at heart. 'All's fair in love and war' and all that."

Ji-hoo nodded. "Well, I'm thankful for your help, whatever your motivation. Besides, from a purely professional perspective, I'm glad that Ga-eul introduced us. Your work would be a great fit for the exhibit we're curating on non-traditional techniques across artistic mediums. I hope you'll consider displaying with us."

She grinned at him, clearly delighted by the offer. "Count me in, Yoon Ji-hoo-ssi. It sounds like a great opportunity." She took a drink of her soda before reaching out to shake his hand. "And I hope you get the girl."

"Me, too," he said wryly.

…

…

…


	12. Chapter 12

...

...

The sun was dipping toward the horizon, its golden light reflecting in the glass windows of Seoul's tallest buildings, when Jan-di stepped into the lengthening shadow of Namsan Tower. Her heart raced. She hadn't been back here since the plane crash. She took a deep breath and looked over at the spot where Jun-pyo had waited in the rain for their first date. Moisture sprang to her eyes, but it didn't hurt, and she smiled at the sweetness of the memory.

It wasn't hard to arrange to clear the last cable car of the night when she dropped the Shinhwa name to the operator and offered him a stack of cash. It made her laugh a little, remembering the outrageous things Jun-pyo had done, like flying her and Ga-eul to New Caledonia for a spontaneous weekend trip or arranging to have the whole tower lit up like a valentine. After the last passengers had been escorted away, Jan-di wrapped her arms around herself in a hug and stepped onto their car. She stood for a moment, looking out over the lights of the city. Sitting down on the cool metal bench, she found the place on the wall where Jun-pyo had written their names. How sure he'd been, underneath all the pomp and swagger, that there was something special about the two of them. He had even made her see it, in the end. She was grateful for the time they'd had, and for the daughter they'd welcomed into the world. She was still young, but she felt that her life had been full already, and blessed. Was she greedy to want more?

As the doors slid closed and the car began its long slow descent to the bottom, Jan-di reached out and ran her finger over the writing. _Gu Jun-pyo & Geum Jan-di, first night!_ She could almost see him, could almost feel him sitting on the bench next to her. This was why she had come. She needed to talk.

"I miss you," she said simply, a tear escaping as she imagined his comforting words. "I think I'll always miss you."

The quiet in the cable car was only broken by the mechanical sound of the machinery outside. She closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and continued, "Hee-jin and I are still doing well. You took good care of us, Jun-pyo. Because of you, we have everything that we need. Can you see how well our daughter is growing up? I've been telling her stories about you…" Jan-di laughed quietly. "Don't worry. None of the bad ones. I'll wait to tell her what a jerk you were when we met until she's old enough to realize that nobody is just one thing." She could almost hear the heated protest of his reply, and she smiled. "But we learned together how to love each other, didn't we? And you were so good at it. You loved me well, jagiya."

Jan-di sighed and cast her gaze out the window, deep in thought. Finally, she spoke again. "Do you remember when you told Yoon Ji-hoo that if it couldn't be you, he had to be the one? I always thought that was strange. How could you say something like that?" She hugged herself against the evening chill. "I think I'm starting to understand now." Casting around for words, she found herself remembering all the ways, big and small, that Ji-hoo had shown her his heart. "I don't know why it took me so long to really see him. He's the best of us, isn't he? You know, when I lost you, I fell apart a little. Okay… a lot," she said with a sniff and a half laugh. "He helped me find all the pieces, one by one, and sew them back into something like a life. He always seemed to know what I needed before I did. And not just me. You should see him with Hee-jin-a. They're thick as thieves. She's stubborn and wild and fiercely loyal—a lot like her father. Maybe that's why the two of them get along so well." She smiled fondly at the thought.

"I didn't realize it until recently, but it's like he's already a member of the family. And I really thought that having him as a good friend was enough for me. Enough for both of us. But now…" She pressed her hands to her cheeks and sighed roughly. "Why is this so hard to say?"

Taking a deep breath, she went on in a rush. "The thing is, Jun-pyo… The thing is… I think I'm falling in love with him."

The words hung suspended in the quiet air. Jan-di played them back in her head and was surprised at how right they felt.

"Is that crazy? With you gone, I never thought I could have that feeling again. I'm almost afraid to believe in it. But I want to. I want to believe. I just... hope it's not too late."

She lifted her face and looked around the empty car. "I guess what I'm asking is… is this okay?"

By the time the cable car came to a stop, she had her answer.

…

* * *

...

Ji-hoo wandered around the kitchen, trying to decide what to eat. He wasn't very hungry, but he hadn't had anything since lunch. Worrying about Jan-di had put a dent in his appetite. He settled on pancakes, smiling at the memory of Jan-di teaching him to make them. He was just pulling the flour out of the cupboard when he heard a soft knock.

Dusting his hands on a dishtowel, he walked to the front door and opened it.

Jan-di stood on the front porch, her hands clasped together and a nervous look in her eyes.

Ji-hoo's heart skipped a beat. He was afraid to speak, afraid to guess what had brought her to his door.

"Can I come in, sunbae?" she asked tentatively.

He stepped back and held the door open for her to enter, then followed her into the living room.

She looked around. "Is Grandfather here?"

"No," Ji-hoo answered. "He was asked to speak at a medical symposium in Shanghai. He's gone until Tuesday." She nodded, relieved.

Half of him wanted desperately to know why she had come, but the other half was afraid to hear what she might have to say. He held out his hand to take her jacket, and she slipped awkwardly out of it, not meeting his eyes. Laying the garment across the back of a leather chair, he cast around for something to fill the silence. "Would you like anything to drink?" he offered. She declined. The niceties played out, there was nothing left but to wait for her to speak.

Jan-di cleared her throat, then turned slightly so that she and Ji-hoo were looking at each other head on. "Sunbae, I…" she started, but her voice trailed off, trembling. She looked down at her hands.

Ji-hoo continued to wait, his heart pounding in his throat. He could see her mind racing to figure out a way to express whatever it was that she came to tell him. Clearly, she had rushed over here without planning it out at all. It was so like her.

"Sunbae…" she started again, and then she seemed to give up on finding the words. In two short steps, she was right in front of him, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips briefly against his. It was over before he could react. Jan-di took a step back to look into his face. A blush crept into her cheeks, making her even lovelier. She seemed to be measuring his response.

Ji-hoo's paralysis lasted only a moment. He stepped into the space between them and looked down into her dark eyes. "Does this mean...?" he began, wanting to be sure of what was happening.

"You told me to come to you when I was ready," Jan-di said in a slightly stronger voice. "I'm ready now, sunbae. I… want to be with you." Her eyes were shiny with emotion. "Saranghae," she finished shyly.

He didn't need to hear any more. Joy sang through him as he folded her into his arms in a wordless embrace that seemed to last a small, blissful eternity before he pulled back to look wonderingly at her. At last, tense with anticipation, he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly, thoroughly. He took his time, letting his mouth and hands tell her how he felt. All the while, his thoughts were spinning. _Is this possible?_ he wondered. _She__** loves**__ me?_

Without conscious thought, Jan-di brought her arms up and ran her hands across Ji-hoo's back, sending a wave of heat across his body. His fingers twined through her hair, pressing her closer, and their kiss intensified. All the wanting that he had held at bay over the last month beat like a battering ram at the doors of his self-control.

Before either of them knew it was happening, he had lowered her to the sofa and laid her back against the pillows, holding himself up on one arm to look at her. His eyes were so full of love and desire that she wondered how she hadn't seen it there all along. She responded by wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and drawing him down until their lips met once more, parting slightly in give and take. Shifting his weight, Ji-hoo pressed her body more closely to his. She bit his lower lip gently and heard a low moan resound deep in his throat. His mouth left hers and burned a slow trail of kisses down her neck. A gasp of pleasure tore from Jan-di's throat. "Sunbae!"

With effort, Ji-hoo pulled himself back from the brink. They were both panting faintly. He placed his hands on either side of Jan-di's face and looked into her eyes. "Not 'sunbae', Jan-di-ah. Not anymore." He tenderly smoothed a thumb over her cheekbone. "I'm not your sunbae. I'm the man who loves you. Please… say my name."

Jan-di smiled up at him, then reached up to touch his swollen lips in wonder. "Yoon Ji-hoo," she said. "Ji-hoo." Her gaze took in his tousled hair and the dark wells of his eyes, at once so familiar and so new. "Ji-hoo-ah."

The look of deep satisfaction on his face cleared away any lingering doubts she might have had about the path they were walking. Confusion had passed, leaving behind it only a clean, clear light illuminating the way home.

He kissed her again, firmly, and then surprised her by jumping up from the couch and reaching out a hand to help her stand. "Come on," he said, "before I lose my mind. You are altogether too tempting for me right now."

Slightly self-conscious, Jan-di smoothed her rumpled clothes, and then looked up to see Ji-hoo watching her with a wry grin. She took a shaky breath.

"I can see we're going to need a chaperone," he joked.

She laughed. "Don't worry. I'll bring Hee-jin with me next time. She'll make sure we have no energy for anything else."

He took her hand and led her into the kitchen. "What do you think about pancakes for our first date?" he asked with a wink.

"Actually, it's our second," she reminded him.

He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I know. But that date was all about the end. This one is just the beginning."

…

…

…


	13. Chapter 13

...

...

...

The frilly black and pink apron was a bit much, Ga-eul thought, but Yi-jung had insisted on wearing it to protect his new shirt. She stifled a giggle as she watched him absentmindedly fiddle with the lace-edged strap that kept slipping off his shoulder. He tasted the soup and added more parsley, then did a little impromptu bump and grind to the pop music drifting in from the speakers in the living room. Ga-eul's laugh could not be contained this time. Yi-jung looked up from the soup and grinned.

"Care for a little turn around the dance floor, pretty girl?" he offered with a comical waggle of his eyebrows.

Ga-eul gave an unladylike snort and smoothed her shirt down over her round figure. "Does the F4 know about your obsession with Girls' Generation?"

He came around the counter to where Ga-eul was sitting and offered her his hand with a deep bow. "I think, my lady, that you're just jealous of my sweet moves." He pulled her to her feet, spun her gently around, and dipped her deeply before planting a warm kiss on her upturned lips.

"What are you doing, yobo? I'm as big as an elephant!"

"And light as a feather," he said loyally, standing her upright once again.

Ga-eul smacked him playfully on the arm. "Liar." She slid her arms around him, though she couldn't get as close as she would have liked with the swell of the baby between them. "Thank you for doing the cooking, Yi-jung-ah."

"It's the least I can do, since you're singlehandedly marinating the newest member of the So family," he teased, tenderly rubbing a hand over her belly. His face grew serious for a moment. "And I know how tired you've been. Dr. Park said the baby could come at anytime. You need to stay off your feet, jagiya. Are you sure you feel up to having people over tonight?"

Ga-eul smiled at his concern. "Of course! Besides, the baby absolutely cannot come until I get everything worked out for Jan-di and Ji-hoo. Wait until you see what Jun-hee and I have cooked up for tonight! If this doesn't shake Jan-di out of her complacency, I don't know what will."

Yi-jung shivered. "You women terrify me. I hope I never find myself in the center of one of your nefarious plots." He winked at her and went to set the table.

...

The doorbell rang, and Yi-jung ran to answer it. When Ji-hoo and Jan-di walked in together holding hands, he nearly dropped the wooden spoon he was gripping. He opened his mouth as if to say... something, but for once words failed So Yi-jung. Instead, he grinned and elbowed Ji-hoo good-naturedly, shouting back over his shoulder, "Ga-eul! I think you should come out here..."

Ji-hoo seemed unruffled. "Nice apron," he observed.

Yi-jung reddened and hastened to remove the frilly kitchen-wear, rolling it into a ball and stuffing it behind the vase on the hall table.

Jan-di laughed, and Ji-hoo, thankful that she wasn't too embarrassed by the awkwardness of going public, slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. The glow of satisfaction on his face could have lit several small cities.

Just then, Ga-eul appeared in the entryway. She assessed the situation in a heartbeat, and, with a squeal more suited to a fourteen year old girl than a mother of two, she grabbed Jan-di's hand, dragging her out of Ji-hoo's grasp and down the hall into a bedroom. Shutting the door behind them, she turned to her friend. "Spill," she demanded.

So Jan-di spilled.

...

...

"You're saying this happened almost a week ago, and you didn't tell me?" Ga-eul asked indignantly.

Jan-di ducked her head in chagrin. She usually did tell Ga-eul everything, but the past week had been a crazy one at the clinic, and she and Ji-hoo had been stealing every spare moment to spend with each other and with Hee-jin. "I'm sorry, Ga-eul-ah."

"Nevermind that," Ga-eul said, "I want all the juicy details! I've wondered forever: is he a good—"

"Ya! Chu Ga-eul!" Jan-di interrupted, laughing. "That's personal!"

Ga-eul's face fell in disappointment.

With a wicked grin, Jan-di leaned closer to add, "And yes, he is."

...

...

In the living room, a similar interrogation was taking place.

"Even I didn't expect the plan to work that fast," Yi-jung teased Ji-hoo. "Turnaround time: two days. Impressive."

Ji-hoo laughed quietly. "Yeah, just two days and eleven years. A brilliant strategy."

Yi-jung leaned closer, his voice dropping confidentially. "So?"

"So what?" Ji-hoo asked, genuinely puzzled.

Yi-jung raised an eyebrow. "So is she worth waiting for?"

Ji-hoo's face darkened for a moment, but then he saw the sincerity on his friend's face and realized he'd misunderstood the intent of his question. He relaxed, a broad smile spreading over his features. "Yes. Yes, she most certainly is."

...

...

The four friends were sitting around the low dining table, three of them enjoying a pre-dinner glass of wine, while they talked and waited for the bread to come out of the oven. Ga-eul clocked every sidelong glance and clandestine touch that passed between Jan-di and Ji-hoo with a proprietary glee that suggested she considered herself personally responsible for their happiness.

Yi-jung was just putting the last of the side dishes on the table when the doorbell rang. He opened it, and Jun-hee strode confidently into the room. She was wearing a form-fitting green silk dress and a pair of strappy heels that made her legs look lean and toned and six feet long. Her hair hung loose and unbound down her back, and silver earrings sprinkled with inlaid emeralds dangled from her ears. She looked like an actress. Yi-jung choked when he saw her, earning an irritable glare from Ga-eul.

Jun-hee slipped off her shoes and smoothly took a seat at the table next to Ji-hoo, turning the full force of her brilliant smile on him. "Hello, Ji-hoo-ssi." Her voice was like velvet.

Jan-di struggled to keep a polite look on her face.

"I hoped I'd see you again," Jun-hee purred, laying a hand softly on his arm.

Ji-hoo flushed and leaned away from her, hastening to wrap his arm around Jan-di's shoulder so he could pull her closer to his side. "Jun-hee-ssi, I think you met Geum Jan-di, my _girlfriend_?"

Jun-hee blinked. Her mouth dropped open. She looked back and forth between Ji-hoo and Jan-di, then threw back her head and laughed loudly. "Well," she said, a grin spreading across her face, "It appears my work here is done."

Jan-di looked around the room in confusion while Ji-hoo's expression transitioned from embarrassed to mildly alarmed. He took in Jan-di's look of dawning suspicion and rushed to clarify the situation.

"Ahh, Jan-di-ah, there's something..." he began, then ran his free hand absently through his hair in frustration.

"It was my idea," Ga-eul interrupted. "And _you're welcome_."

It took a while to explain. By the time they finished, Jan-di's mouth was twitching in amusement. Ji-hoo, holding her hand, looked vastly relieved. And Ga-eul was smiling like the cat that got the cream.

...

...

Later, after dessert, the girls sat close together on the sofa, talking, while Yi-jung and Ji-hoo stood on the other side of the living room laughing together over drinks. Jan-di turned to Jun-hee. "I really didn't like you," she admitted guiltily.

The younger girl laughed. "I guess I did my job too well," she said. "I hope we can be friends now that you know I'm not really competition. Although..." she mused, looking over at Ji-hoo, "if I thought I had half a chance of turning _that_ head, I might have been tempted."

Jan-di wasn't sure if she was kidding.

Jun-hee sighed. "Alas, I think you're stuck with that boy. He is head-over-heels in love with you, Geum Jan-di."

Ji-hoo glanced over from across the room and caught Jan-di's eye, giving her a private smile, and she felt a flood of warmth spread from her chest out to the tips of her fingers. Her unease around Jun-hee dissolved like mist before the sun.

...

...

Later, as Ji-hoo walked Jan-di home through the softly lit streets of her neighborhood, they held hands, their fingers intertwined in a way that was quickly becoming familiar. Jan-di was strangely subdued, as if lost in her own thoughts. Eventually, she pulled Ji-hoo to a stop in the shadows of a beech tree overhanging the road and swung around to face him.

"Ga-eul I can understand," she said, as if taking up the thread of a conversation they had already begun. "She's a romantic and a meddler. I'm sure she jumped at the chance to play matchmaker."

Ji-hoo waited, letting Jan-di finish.

"But you… you have only ever been honest with me, sunbae. This doesn't seem like you at all. Why did you agree to go along with it?" She didn't sound angry, just puzzled and… something else. Hurt, maybe?

Ji-hoo rubbed his hands softly up and down Jan-di's arms before taking hold of her shoulders and leaning down so that he could look right into her eyes. "I think, Jan-di-ah, that you're underestimating how desperate I had become." He paused, searching for words. "I had already confessed, had already kissed you, and waiting for you to come to me was driving me mad. I was ready to try anything."

Ji-hoo pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear, "Besides—it worked, didn't it?"

Jan-di could hear the smile in his voice, and warmed to it. She slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest to hide her answering grin.

Ji-hoo drew back slightly and, placing his hand under Jan-di's chin, lifted her face until they were once again looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, he moved in for a kiss.

Just before their lips touched, Jan-di whispered, "But… did she have to be so beautiful, sunbae?"

"I told you, Jan-di-ah," Ji-hoo murmured, "I'm not your sunbae anymore." And with that, he swooped in to claim her mouth with his, kissing her under the soft light of the streetlamp until neither of them could have pointed out the way home.

...

...

...


End file.
